


Whipped For Will

by willowelijah



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Autumn, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Hate to Love, Hogwarts, Love/Hate, Party, Quidditch, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-07-10 03:37:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 64,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15940991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowelijah/pseuds/willowelijah
Summary: When Willow is appointed as the new Hufflepuff Quidditch captain all she wants is to have peace and a little bit of fun. But for some reason Oliver Wood won't stop picking fights with her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

I closed my eyes for a couple of seconds, wished for more time, wished that I could shove away my toast and pumpkin juice and fall asleep right there, right then. I was usually an early bird, but somehow that quality of mine had become muddled during the long summer break. My summers usually consisted of waking up at 12 p.m., having breakfast for lunch and then playing Quidditch in the garden with my brothers until late in the night. Summers were perfect for playing Quidditch since the sun was typically as much of an insomniac as us then. I couldn’t tell you how many snitches we’d lost this summer, due to the sun finally setting sometime around 2 a.m., and us giving up on ever finding it, with me always being the last one to give up and call it a night. Sometimes we’d find it speeding around outside the kitchen window the morning after.

It seemed wherever I went, I would always be the one caring the most about Quidditch, even though I was the last to try the sport in my family. I was also the only girl, which meant that it was never expected of me to play. It bothered me sometimes, thinking that maybe I’d be even better if I had only taken up the sport sooner, instead of waiting until I was ten even though my brothers started at the age of seven. I was always eager to try, but my mother held me back from it, being slightly overprotective of me. Although when the time came and I flew for the first time — I’ve been obsessed ever since. I flew every day and it didn’t take long until I was quicker than all of my brothers, more agile and more skilled. It was nice having something to impress them with, especially since I was the designated “little sister”, the only Hufflepuff among a clan of Gryffindor’s.

At the realisation of how long I’d been pondering I flung my head up with a jolt, nearly getting whiplash. _Damn it!_ I thought. I’d spaced out again. _Why do I always get lost in thought like that?_ I looked at the clock above the teachers’ table, it was nearly 8 a.m., and most teachers were gone, except professor Dumbledore who was eyeing me knowingly, he looked like he’d been waiting for me to return back to earth to witness my distraught. Shrugging off his penetrating gaze my mind sped like crazy. I needed to get to the dungeons for potions in only a couple of minutes, my mind span on, trying to figure out the quickest route from the Great Hall to the potions classroom, while fighting the hopelessness of the situation at the same time.

I spun around and stood up in the same motion as I got ready to run, but I was stopped in my haste, almost crashing into Oliver Wood, it was only then I realised he’d been trying to get my attention but I had only registered this in my unconscious as my mind had been quite preoccupied with other things right then.

“Penderghast.” He greeted me, and I took a step back to create a more comfortable space between us. I saw that he looked quite uncomfortable. His eyes were darting between me and whatever was to my left. He put his hands behind him and straightened his back, regaining a confident posture as I greeted him with a smile, still feeling quite stressed but not wanting to appear so out of politeness.

“I’ll make this quick as I can tell you have places to be.” He said with a slight smile, if it was genuine or not I couldn’t tell. He’d probably caught my longing gaze drifting toward the exit. “I heard you are Hufflepuff’s new captain this year. Congratulations.” Dread washed over me as he went on, I had managed to go a couple of hours without that fact crossing my mind, despite thinking about Quidditch for the bigger part of that time, and here he came along, dragging me down into a dark swamp of dread all over again. “Gryffindor is a strong team this year, we haven’t been this strong in years, and it’s going to be hard to beat us. But good luck none the less.” He smiled and extended his hand in a form of peace offering I suppose. I took it as I was in no humour to start a war with Oliver Wood this year, despite us being on opposing sides. I said nothing as I was still struggling in the swamp of dread; instead I just smiled and passed him, making my way out of the great hall. When I had exited the room, I started my sprint toward the dungeons, knowing I was probably facing detention seeing as my teacher was who he was.

Much to my assumptions, as I walked in through the door the first thing I heard was a snap of “Detention!” from professor Snape’s authoritarian voice before I had even spotted him standing in the front of the classroom. It was as though he’d been waiting for me to barge in, ready for the satisfaction of destroying a students first day back at Hogwarts. I said nothing; instead I threw my hands up in the air so as to say “whatever”.

I caught sight of my Hufflepuff friends, all of them giving me pitying looks. They’d left breakfast before I had even got there and were now sitting in a safe unit with no space left for me. Which meant that my only option was sitting down next to Graham Montague, a Slytherin student. I slouched forward and sat down as quietly as I could. I didn’t want to give professor Snape any other reasons to scold me.

Three seconds went by, and then five, we were all the way up at ten seconds before I heard the inevitable snort coming from Graham. I looked to my side to see him peering at me teasingly and I couldn’t help but smile a muffled laugh myself. “I like to make an entrance.” I whispered to him dully with a confident smile. His grin widened and I felt my body bloat with excitement to be re-joined with Graham after a long summer break and his lack of condescending pity for me.

Graham was a chaser just like me, only for the Slytherin team. He was a skinny bloke with pitch-black hair. We’d been friends ever since our second year. It had been my first ever Quidditch match and I was put in the hospital wing for falling off my broom, or rather, I was pushed of it by Flint, another Slytherin chaser (captain nowadays). Graham had come to see me in the hospital wing to see if I was all right and to apologise for his teammate, which had imprinted a deep fond for Graham inside me.

Sinking my head onto my desk I used my arms as a pillow. I wasn’t that into potions, at least not the theoretical parts of our lessons, and I wasn’t disciplined enough to pay attention despite my lack of interest. My thoughts wandered back to me being the captain. It wasn’t so much the responsibility that I dreaded, I knew I could do it, Quidditch had been a large part of my life so far and I knew the sport like the back of my hand. Getting a team together and thinking up strategies wasn’t a problem either; I could handle all of those things, I had been trained for those things. The thing I was dreading was the sudden seriousness of it all. Seriousness was not my cup of tea, and I didn’t want my captainship to ruin Quidditch for me, I felt like it was going to make it excessively technical, which would take all the fun out of it. I couldn’t let that happen. I didn’t want to turn into Oliver Wood.

I take back what I said earlier about me always being the most passionate about Quidditch — not when I am in the same room as Oliver Wood. Honestly, I once heard a rumour that he had told his seeker to “catch the snitch or die trying”; he’s on the fine line between overly passionate and mental.

Wood had been captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team since our fourth year. I’ve seen him heckling his teammates more times than I can count and the amusing part is: he doesn’t even realise that he’s bothering them. He’s the most clueless person I’ve ever met, and that’s not even a hyperbole. He doesn’t ever think twice before he says something, and he’s brutally honest sometimes. He’s so caught up in his own little world that he thinks everyone is as passionate about Quidditch as he is, it seems like it’s never even crossed his mind that _maybe_ , there’s a _slight_ chance not everyone is as enthusiastic about flying on a broom 150 feet above the ground as he is. Still, I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of his cluelessness. It’s _almost_ charming, emphasis on the almost _._ It’s not all bad though; I had to applaud his passion.

* * *

Whichever was worst? I deliberated. Was it when I, in the midst of my absent-mindedness accidentally put lacewing flies into Grahams cauldron instead of mine, adding too much and making his explode. Was it when I took the wrong path and ended up on the opposite side of the castle to where charms was held? Or was it possibly when I finally arrived at the right classroom, making it the second class I had been late to in the same day as a result of my absent-mindedness, only to find out I’d accidentally brought _Unfogging the Future_ instead of _The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 6_. I obviously didn’t mention my mishap to Flitwick however and instead pretended that I had the right book, meaning that when he asked me about what I had read, I had to shamefully dismiss the question.

In short, my day had not been a good one. But it was time for the cherry on top: serving detention. I was serving it with Oliver for some unapparent reason; I didn’t ask why he’d gotten detention. Although one can assume it had something to do with Quidditch, everything Oliver ever did innately revolved around the sport. Take now for an example, we were standing next to each other, polishing the trophies, and he couldn’t shut up about how well trained his teammates were and how the Hufflepuff team would be an easy obstacle in the road to defeating the Slytherins. He rambled on, telling me that just yesterday, he’d practised the Porskoff Ploy with Angelina and Katie. Why he wasn’t worried of me using this information to my advantage, I don’t know.

“I tried to get them to agree on an impulse practise session today before I came here, but it was harder than I thought. I had a row with Alicia about it only to find out that the pitch was booked anyway.”

Sensing that he was about to go on about something else –Oliver sure knew how to ramble– I said quickly, “I’ve had a long day, Oliver ” Which came out quite irritably.

“Have I said something to upset you?” he asked, which was surprisingly deceptive of him.

Since he’d decided to be surprisingly deceptive I reasoned that I should match him by being surprisingly honest. “You’re trying to make us enemies when comparing our teams; that’s not the way I want to do this.” I said while applying more force to my rubbing of the trophies.

Oliver looked on in confusion. “We are enemies, there’s no denying that.”

“We’re on _opposing sides_ , that doesn’t mean we have to act like enemies.” I said in my most pedagogical voice.

“What other way can we act?” I was mildly taken aback by how genuinely confused he seemed.

“How about being polite — being nice?” I turned and made my way over to the other side of the room, starting on a different trophy, but he followed.

“I am being polite.” He retorted as he began polishing the one next to mine. We were throwing lines at each other in a heat. Like bad actors rehearsing a play, completely lacking constructive pauses.

I let out a breath. “I know, just skip the part where you trash my team and behave like we don’t stand a chance.”

He paused at this; finally it seemed like I’d penetrated the impervious. He gave me a barely existent smile and a nod, and then returned to the polishing without a sound.

I returned to my task as well, not exactly looking at what I was doing, my mind being somewhere else.

“Hey, Oliver.” I interrupted our silent polishing after a while. He looked at me and I spoke calmly. “Look, I get it. You’re used to this jargon with Flint where you trash each other and whatever, but that’s not how I do things. It gets tiring, that’s why I like to keep it civil. You’re just going to have to get used to that.” I spoke confidently. He did the same thing as he’d done before, giving me a barely existent smile and nod of his head.

We kept scrubbing until we were almost done and Oliver was the one to speak up. “I have a question.” He said while still scrubbing.

“Shoot.” I said without stopping either.

“You call Flint, Flint. Yet you always use my first name… why is that?”

“Oh come on Oliver. It’s not the same. Flint’s a total prick. And you’re not… A _total_ prick.” I added. “Plus, I have friends on your team.”

“You have friends on the Slytherin team as well… you’re always with that Montague bloke.” He argued.

“I have _friend_ on the Slytherin team.” I corrected. “Flint shoved me off my broom my first match!”

“I was there.” He said knowingly.

“I was twelve years old for Merlin’s sake!” We both paused and I had to catch my breath, I had gotten riled up.

“I still don’t see why you-“

“Oh sod off Oliver!” I burst out.

“Now you’re angry again.” His face was as confused as his tone when he spoke. I almost wanted to congratulate him, _well done Oliver, twice in one night you manage to perceive the obvious._ But I didn’t, because just like he’d guessed, I was angry.

“Yeah, I am angry!” I added a constructive pause for effect, just like the professional actor I was. “This is you trying to make us enemies again.” I motioned between us, adding some of that dramatic gesturing. “I told you I don’t _want_ that! It doesn’t sink in does it?” I had given up scrubbing a while ago, it didn’t seem like we’d ever get this room clean.

He wasn’t cleaning either, more staring at the trophy like he was trying to get it to clean itself, but I was doubtful he’d be skilled enough to use wandless _and_ nonverbal magic at the same time. At the lack of response from him I continued the conversation by myself, taking the roll of the antagonist. “You know what, fine. We’ll do it your way.” The obvious irritation was still evident in my speech. “I just made us enemies, or rather, you forced me to. Either way, war is declared.” I didn’t know yet if I really meant the words I was speaking. Time would have to deduce that. “But I’m still calling you Oliver.” I announced.

“Fine.” He muttered, still not looking my way and continued scrubbing once again. Those were the last words we spoke that night.

Well in bed later that night, I couldn’t quite comprehend what had gotten us to that point. I had been so sure I wanted nothing but friendship with Oliver. I thought I had acted so reasonably. Clearly, Oliver was not the reasoning type.

* * *

9 September 2018

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like/dislike anything in this chapter? Please let me know!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

“Penderghast, Willow!”

It was the second time she’d called me when I finally understood that it was my name she’d said. After a clearing of my throat and a high pitched “yes!” for reply, I began the long journey toward the stool. Quite desperately I argued with reality that no one was looking at me. When I sat down and turned to face the crowd I could no longer argue. Reality had won and all eyes were on me.

I remember feeling like everyone _cared_ so much. Cared who I was and if I was going to be a Gryffindor like my brothers were or a Slytherin like… no one I knew really, but I hadn’t missed the stereotypes people perpetuated. Later in life I would realise they weren’t just stereotypes, but misconceptions as well, I would also come to find out that, contrary to my 11 year old self’s belief, _no one cared._ No one cared who that little kid up there was, and they didn’t give a damn if I was a Gryffindor like my brothers were, nor would my brothers themselves. The only thing they cared about was how many kids were left until they could get some well-deserved food after a long train journey through England. I was only a number to them.

When the hat called out, “Hufflepuff!” and everyone clapped on demand, the Hufflepuff table cheering, I felt sort of numb. My whole world had just tumbled over and the only thing I could do was try not to think of what this would mean. The house I was sorted into did after all decipher who was going to be my family for the next seven years, who I was going to go to classes with and spend most of my time with; who I was going to play Quidditch with, and against. Saying it’s a big deal was fair indeed.

It’s not that I didn’t like Hufflepuff. I had just never considered the possibility that _I_ would be one. When I think back to it, it seems kind of silly. I had thought of the possibility of me being in every house, _every_ _house —_ except for Hufflepuff house. How had I not considered that a possibility? How had I not even thought the thought?

Graham broke me from my daydream with a poke in my side. My mind flew back to the current place I was in, the potions classroom. The rain was coming down with force on the window beside me. “He’s been eyeing you for a while now. Better stay alert, it’s only a matter of time before he makes a scene.” He whispered, keeping his eyes pointed forwards to be discrete.

“Thanks.” I whispered back. Snape, whom he was talking about, would gladly take any arising opportunity to make a scene, and one better not be the one who gives it to him.

Keeping my head mostly faced forward I glanced at Graham next to me. My thoughts returned to where they’d previously been. Another thing I had come to realise later in life was that I had been wrong about one other thing, one’s house doesn’t decipher whom one spends their time with, I had made sure to not let it. When I, seven years later, think of my friends, they’re not all strictly Hufflepuff, not nearly. My conclusion is that my eleven-year-old self was close-minded, and that I like my 17-year-old self much better. Smiling, I focused back on what Snape was saying in the front of the class. Our eyes met and he probably wondered why I looked so happy in the middle of his boring speech.

* * *

 

“Alright, give me a word!” Said Bianca. She put some food into her mouth and clapped her hands together, leaning back a bit so that we could study her. She watched us with expectant eyes.

“Hmm.” I uttered while I tried to concentrate, it was hard, being as on edge as I currently was. Although the game helped, which was probably why Bianca had suggested it. She usually suggested mini-games while we had lunch, but today I could sense that no one was really feeling it. Bianca had pushed on though and I guessed it was for my sake, to take my mind off the try-outs.

“Frabjous.” Came PJ with.

I raised my eyebrows. “ _Frabjous? Really?”_ I sputtered at her. She had a pleased gleam in her eyes. “That’s the PJ vocabulary for you.” I turned to Bianca, who looked unhappy with the word having been handed to her. PJ’s vocabulary took us all of guard sometimes. Her short name had been handed to her in juxtaposition to her personality. It was the initials of her name: Polly Jansson. The thing about PJ was that she was intelligent, just not pretentious, she never flaunted it on purpose and she would never just assume someone didn’t know something. Having said that, she was wearing a big smirk at the moment.

“How am I supposed to even know if that describes me?” Bianca complained and picked at her food without tasting it. “Stop reading.” She ordered PJ.

“Why?” PJ laughed.

“Because then I won’t be put me in situations like these were I don’t know what you think of me.”

“You _know_ I would certainly never say anything cruel about you Bianca, _especially_ not to you.” She smiled.

“Tell me what it means then.” Bianca replied.

“Why don’t you look it up?”

Bianca opened her mouth then closed it. “Why don’t you _tell me_?” She finally said.

“Independent.” Said Wright. PJ had been about to reply when Wright had put an abrupt stop to their heated discussion with her own contribution. She smiled proudly at having had this effect on them and I grinned back at her. She flicked her hair and waited for Bianca’s reply, which came quickly.

“Independent?” I could see her thinking this over. “Yeah, I can roll with that. Who wouldn’t want that word to define them?” She asked herself more than anyone else.

“Penderghast.” Came Oliver’s voice from behind me, interrupting our game. I turned around and gave him a quick smile before I remembered that I had declared us enemies yesterday. _Eh, who cares, I was never going to keep that charade up anyway,_ I thought. “Oliver.” I greeted him. “Aren’t you banned from the Hufflepuff table? I mean we are _enemies_ apparently.” I said passive aggressively.

“We’re not close enough for you to call me by my first name.” He declared flatly before replying to my question. “I came over to wish you luck. The weather is ghastly and I thought you might need some encouragement.” But there wasn’t much encouragement in his tone; neither was it mocking, so I couldn’t really decipher what he actually wanted.

“Thanks Oliver, but if you want us to be rivals, how come you’re wishing me luck?” The question came out of me sounding surprisingly genuine; I just didn’t understand his intentions.

“Isn’t there such a thing as civilized rivalry?” He broke into a small smile and I had to force one back. We were holding each other’s gazes when I began to feel the presence of someone else.

“Having a chat between captains without me?” Said a burly voice.

 _Oh no,_ I thought, _did Flint have to join the conversation?_

The slight chance of this meeting ending well was out the window. “Flint.” Oliver and I greeted him with at once, switching to our formal voices. I spared a quick glance over to the Ravenclaw table where I found the person I had been searching for: Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain and the only one missing from our gathering. He had noticed us, and was looking right back at me, although my guess is he was smart enough not to join us. Truth be told, if I could’ve left, I would’ve, although I couldn’t precisely leave my food and my friends.

“Oh, right. I haven’t been able to properly congratulate you on joining the big boys.” Flint began. I didn’t like where this was going, and I especially didn’t like the use of the term ‘big boys’. As if I was some less worthy individual who had for some reason been handed the great privilege of being in this position alongside him and Oliver and Davies.

“Can’t say I wasn’t surprised at first. But then I came to my senses. It is the _Hufflepuff_ team you’re captain of, after all.” He stopped to let out a small laugh. “Who cares anyway?” He looked at Oliver with a big grin at his face, as if he expected him to laugh with him. But Oliver only looked searchingly at him. He was studying Flint with the same expression Bianca typically wore at Quidditch matches: utter incomprehension.

“Okay.” Was all I nonchalantly replied with and I looked Flint straight in the eye while I said it, my face void of feeling.

“What do you mean okay?” He asked confusedly.

I paused, as if not quite understanding why he would ask that question. It was all an act though. “ _Okay,_ I hear what you’re saying.” I then turned around and faced my friends who had been quiet during the entire interaction. I directed my attention toward my food while I heard them disperse behind me.

I let out a breath.

His words had felt like a punch to the stomach and I had to keep telling myself _he doesn’t matter, he doesn’t matter._ In a little while, I would start believing the words and the feeling would go away. This sort of thing had happened before and I knew how to handle it. The worst thing he’d done was how he had tried to make Oliver take his side. The way he’d smiled at Oliver flashed into my memory again. He and Oliver were usually archenemies, that sort of thing. But now that “the girl” had tried to join “the big boys” he felt that they needed to become a team and make her the outcast. But I wasn’t having it. I felt relieved Oliver hadn’t taken that bait. In fact, I may have even been able to spot a small smile playing at his lips when I had nonchalantly turned away from them.

“Damn. That was awesome.” Bianca said in that odd way British people say awesome. I smiled.

“So Wood is a strange bloke.” Wright steered the conversation.

“Yeah.” I said, defeated. “I don’t understand where we stand, really. He wants us to be rivals, but I can’t be bothered to be. Although every time we do talk, it’s like he brings it out of me, I feel the rivalry.”

“I mean…” Wright said, with a pondering expression. “He doesn’t seem to be going over to any of the other captains and wishing them good luck.”

“What’s your point, Wright?” I asked in an impatient sort of way.

She searched my face before she answered. “Just doesn’t seem like a thing an enemy would do is all.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned to look over at where Oliver was sitting.

Looking at my wristwatch, I saw that I needed to leave for the try-outs. “Got to go.” I said and stood up, not needing to tell them where I was going as two thirds of them were going with me anyway. I noticed that me standing up caused others alongside the Hufflepuff table to rise and gather their things as well, which was an abnormal cultivation that had started ever since I got back for my seventh year with the captain title attached to my name, one I had not gotten used to quite yet.

“Already?” Wright asked as she and PJ stood up as well.

“You always underestimate the time it takes to get down to the pitch. It’s a big castle, you know. Perhaps it’s slipped your notice.” I said sarcastically.

“You haven’t given me a word yet Willow!” Bianca said anxiously.

“Colourful.” I announced after a moment’s thought. I grabbed my bag and chucked an extra sandwich in there to have for later. It was always too long between lunch and dinner at Hogwarts.

“Colourful?” She said dismissively while I packed my bag. “Describe me in one word I tell you, and you go with colourful? That’s the least descriptive word I’ve ever heard of!”

I shrugged. PJ took a swig of her water and gave Wright and me a look that said: “Ready to leave?”

We said goodbye to Bianca and headed down to the pitch. In situations like these, I always sort of felt sorry for Bianca who didn’t have the same Quidditch interest as us. We had all three joined the Hufflepuff Quidditch team in our second year, it was quite extraordinary actually, seeing as most second years don’t make it into Quidditch at Hogwarts at that age. Bianca however, had never even been interested in sitting on a broom, and boy had I tried to convince her to try it, but she was stubborn.

That was always Bianca. She went her own way. She was the most confident person I’d ever met. People called her “bossy” behind her back, and she knew, but that was the thing: she didn’t _care_.

I had to admit it; I had been just as reluctant to her confidence at first as everyone else. But I eventually realised that her confidence was amazing. Confidence is one of those things that are often mistaken for arrogance. It’s way too often dismissed when it should be applauded.

My nerves took over as we were walking through the dark and dimly lit corridor. It was lunchtime during September yet the weather conditions caused a lack of light. I observed PJ and Wright as they were mocking about in the corridor, doing impressions of various creatures.

“This is a grindylow!” PJ said gleefully, and her bag flapped against her legs as she wildly made the impression. They were walking slightly ahead of me. They knew to give me space given how nervous I seemed. I couldn’t help but feel envious of their carefreeness. To them, this was yet another year of Quidditch try-outs, not a big deal, just the same as they did every year. To me however, I now had to take on the responsibility of telling everyone what to do, and they were supposed to listen to me and I would have to try and earn their respect. Maybe I would get loads of cocky little third years that would question everything I said. (It was common knowledge at Hogwarts that third years were the worst.)

None of my nightmares came true though. I mean, there was some complaining on the weather conditions, but I wasn’t going to cancel my try-outs because of rain. No way. It was only weather after all. I didn’t even regret it afterward when I was back in the locker-room with the team I had gathered to go through the schedule for the season and my fingers were so cold that Cedric had to help me get the feeling back in my fingers using a heat spell.

“All right guys.” I began once I’d warmed my hands enough. I clasped them together, feeling the warmth radiating inside my veins from the spell.

“There isn’t much to say, really. Just… welcome to the team! I try and always book the practises for Tuesdays and Thursdays. I will always tell you when there’s practise, never assume that there is a practise and never assume there isn’t a practise… And always tell me as soon as you can if you can’t make it to one as I have to plan what we are going to do every practise. That's pretty much it!” I smiled at them and made my exit into the girl’s locker-room, leaving them confused at my conciseness, but I didn't care, I was longing for a hot shower.

As I let the hot water pour down on my hair and shoulders, slowly swaying, I felt relieved, I had managed to get a team that was, not only a good team, (which should be the main priority I guess,) but they were a team of my friends. Which gave me hope that maybe this Quidditch year wouldn’t just be about strategy but also about having fun all the while.

PJ and Wright had made the team on their usual positions. This was an advantage for two reasons: First of all, having to turn down my friends for the Quidditch positions they’d had had for five years would have been awkward and not a conversation I’d like to have. Second of all, having played Quidditch together for as long as we had meant that we were synchronised on the pitch, we knew each other’s plays.

PJ was our keeper and Wright was our beater. One of the few female beaters, but she had the muscle and the talent for it. The other beater was Jason Caulfield who I hoped wouldn’t clash with Wright seeing as she liked things a certain way, as last year’s beater and her had not worked well together and it had caused countless long lasting arguments on the field.

Peter Griffith was whom I had picked for one of the chasers. He, like me, enjoyed having a laugh. Our previous captain hadn’t let him on the team, which I thought was a big mistake. So it felt good to be able to redeem her mistake.

Hamish Edinger had made our second chaser. He had been late to the try-outs, but whatever. Better late than never. I was beyond happy when he’d showed up, and even happier when I saw that he could fly really well. He was this cute, skinny little fourth year that some people made fun of, but he was _so good_. I love an underdog.

Then we had Cedric Diggory as seeker. I could go on and on about Cedric. I really liked Cedric. I sort of looked up to him. He was the talented Hufflepuff seeker, a prefect. He was in the top of his classes and an all around nice person who treated everyone equally. Always did the right thing and was as loyal as they came. He was just simply an emblem for Hufflepuff house, represented the best of us.

Lastly we had me as our third chaser. The captain. The title had begun to fit.

* * *

 12 September 2018

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like/dislike anything about this chapter? Please let me know!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Nothing ever felt as good as skipping. I honestly wasn’t sure if I knew anything that did. It just made me feel like a child again, which was a great feeling, really. It was a mix of jumping and running, a perfect combination. When I was a kid, I’d never understand how grown ups could walk everywhere, they just kept walking and walking and it felt so _slow_. How were they ever going to get anywhere in time?

But today was Saturday and I was in no hurry to get down to the pitch, in fact, I was probably early, even. Gryffindor would probably not be finished when I got there anyway but I was just too bored in my dorm. Everyone had set off to Hogsmeade except for me because of homework I needed to do. As we moved further into September the homework had started to pile up and I had only recently realised that Quidditch can’t be my only focus this year.

Much to my assumptions, there the Gryffindors were, up in the air still. I spotted Angelina with the quaffle as I walked toward the stands, the wind getting stronger the further I went. Autumn was indeed almost upon us. I sat down to watch them on the lower seats, waiting for the girls to get off so that we could go and study. I needed help with charms homework and I knew they were up for the task of helping me. Angelina kept flying toward Oliver at a high speed, with Katie or Alicia below, dropping the ball to them in the last second, only for one of them to try and score. This was a very repetitive thing to watch, and I quickly got bored, which made me even happier when, after having looked away for only a couple seconds, they were suddenly all on the ground again. I quickly got up to go and meet them. I hurried down the stands and slowed down as I began approaching the team, only to notice that Oliver was approaching me, he was walking far ahead of the others, with his eyes set on me.

“Hi Oliver.” I uttered cheerfully just a split second before I, once again, had to remind myself that I had declared a war between us.

Oliver however, seemed to have no problem remembering this, and he ignored my ‘hi’ as if it was non-existent, and instead told me in an accusatory tone. “You can’t be here, Penderghast.”

I was taken aback by the coolness in his voice but I replied nonetheless. “It’s not your pitch Oliver.” I said tiredly.

“But it is my practise session. You can’t come prying.” He reasoned while leaning lightly on his broom.

“Like I’d _want_ to be here? Your practises are repetitive and boring, ‘could barely keep my eyes open.” His eyes widened in anger.

“Then why are you here?” He demanded.

“Because unfortunately for you, I have friends on your team.” I said heatedly before walking right by him and facing his teammates who had been watching us. I raised both arms in greeting. Yelling “Heeey!” loudly, to be heard over the wind. They all greeted me back the same way, but our greetings were interrupted when Oliver called me back.

“Penderghast, a word, please?” He said in his Scottish way before I’d made it very far.

“You already had a word.” I snapped at him as I turned toward him, a little harder than I in hindsight had wanted it to come out.

“Can I have _another_ word with you then?” He spat and I walked back to him with a roll of my eyes.

“What?” I once again snapped way too harshly.

Oliver paused, and when he spoke next, his demeanour had turned insecure. “Um, well…” he began. It was as if having allowed himself a pause had disrupted the resentment he’d previously felt. “I’m sorry about what Flint said.” He looked away as he spoke, the wind making it hard to catch his words. “And I want you to know…” He looked me in the eyes. “…That I don’t agree with what he says.” He spoke with assurance. “I’m not on his side, or anything.”

I wasn’t sure how to reply and it took me a while. As discreetly as I could, I glanced behind me to decipher if his teammates where in a hearing distance, but they were quite far away and the wind probably caught our words. “Yeah, well, we all know why he’s targeting me.” I finally said.

“How come?” He asked.

“It may have slipped your notice, but I am a girl.” I said angrily, and I suddenly felt really bad. He’d been trying to be nice to me. Normally I’m calm. _Normally_ , I’m collected. But right now, with Oliver… something about him turned me into fire and rage.

“I know you’re a girl!” He said defensively.

Ignoring the statement, as I didn’t know how to reply, I continued on. “Our dear friend Marcus Flint is a sexist. Now that I’ve become captain, he’s singling me out, trying to turn all of the boys against me. He sees me as the weaker target.” I couldn’t help the anger boiling in me when I spoke; at least now I knew the anger wasn’t directed at him, really. “Why are you bringing this up anyway?” I asked in a softer tone.

“I saw that you got upset.” He said, simply.

 _But I thought I’d played it so well?_ I thought anxiously. _If Oliver had noticed, maybe Flint had also noticed that I wasn’t nearly as composed as I’d seemed._

I felt exposed. I didn’t like it. “I wasn’t upset, where do you get that from?” I retorted harshly. Oliver was now smiling faintly, a bold move. My mind latched on to the moment when Flint had left and I’d caught Oliver’s faint smile that day. I frowned. “And if you supposedly saw that I was upset, then why were you smiling!” I demanded.

He took a step closer to me. “Because _I_ saw that you were upset, but so you think Flint saw it? I don’t think so.” He shook his head with a smile. “He was completely taken off guard by your nonchalance, don’t worry about it!” He spoke as if the sun had erupted from the clouds on a gloomy day. But looking up, there was still no sign of a sun.

The wind had control of my hair and I tried to forcefully flick it out of my face, but it was everywhere, forcing its way out of my skull. I met his eyes. There he stood, all composed with his short hair that wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t smiling at me anymore, now his prominent jaw was clenched shut. Yet his eyes still looked sort of… sweet. He didn’t look bad, especially not while wearing his Quidditch attire. Around school he would have his clothes in a specific way, for example his tie would hang loose around his neck and his shirt wouldn’t be tucked in, or it would be tucked in, but only half of it. He had this sort of careless demeanour, although not on the pitch, never on the pitch.

I was sucked back to the present when he had finally said something. But now his back was turned, he was retreating back to his team.

He’d said that it was brilliant.

Slowly, I began moving toward them again, the wind didn’t make it easy. When I finally made it up to my friends they looked pretty bored. I tried to sound cheery, “Alright, don’t take to long in the showers now! We need to get a move on if we’re going to get any homework at all done today.” I shot them a smile as we all walked toward the locker rooms.

Only, moments later I noticed that we weren’t all walking toward the locker rooms, it was actually just me. I swerved around to see what was going on, and saw that not one of Alicia, Angelina or Katie had moved so much as one step in my direction. Instead they stood steadfast in the same team circle as before.

“We need to have talk first.” Oliver announced to me loudly over the wind, his serious “Quidditch mode” on.

“Can’t you just skip it?” I asked and stepped back to the circle. “I’ve been waiting for ages.”

He looked back at me blankly. “We can’t skip it, we never skip talk.” He reasoned.

“You can skip it once.” I said curtly. “It’s just a talk.”

“We _can’t_ skip talk. Don’t underestimate talk.” Oliver replied.

“Alright, alright.” Fred spoke up before the tension escalated any further. He went and placed each of his hands on Oliver’s shoulder and mine. “Let’s not let you two carry on with your discussion for too long, or we might never see the inside of that castle again.” He nodded toward the castle that was towering above us. “Let’s just have talk quickly and then you two can carry on in separate directions.” It was funny to me how they didn’t say ‘the talk’, or ‘a talk’; just ‘talk’, as if it existed somewhere between a noun and a verb, but belonging to neither word class.

“Fine.” I agreed. But when they all began to move inside the locker rooms and I tried to follow, Oliver wouldn’t have it. He stopped me right outside the entrance into warm salvation. But before he’d closed the door, without even looking me in the eye, he said under his breath: “And I do notice you’re a girl!” Which had me befuddled enough not to put up resistance when he finally closed the door behind him.

First of all: of all the things we’d said, _that_ one was still on his mind? Second of all: It’s simply an odd thing to say, especially for Oliver. Oliver doesn’t notice anything about anyone. I kicked the ground in frustration. “Stupid boys with stupid faces.” I muttered.

* * *

There was a strong whine of the wind from outside. At least now we were inside the somewhat-warmer-yet-not-at-optimal-degree library. Which was nice, I guess. The library was in fact one of my favourite places at Hogwarts, and Hogwarts was big. It always had that sort of aura that a place naturally gets when it contains that much history and that many stories. Thinking about how many books and pages and words were in those bookcases made me thrilled, even though I knew I wasn’t going to read even a third of it.

It didn’t even have that funny smell old places made mostly of wood often had. Instead it had a sort of rustic scent.

“You know, it doesn’t feel like you’re listening to me when you are staring off in a completely different direction.” Angelina stated sourly, putting her elbow on the table and resting her chin on her hand. Angelina could always pull off that cold facial expression; yet still contain that fierce gleam in her eyes. She knew how to put someone on the spot.

“I am listening, though!” I defended. “I concentrate better when I keep my eyes focused on a fixed point somewhere.” I nodded frantically as if to further show that I was indeed telling the truth, which I wasn’t. Angelina could probably tell that, as well, given how she was still giving me the exact same look as before.

“Anyway.” She said, and then continued on with what she had been trying to explain to me about the lunar phases for the past couple of minutes, it had gotten to the point where I was embarrassingly slow at comprehending. I put both my elbows on the table and bored my eyes into hers to see if that could help my concentration span. There was barely any room for my elbows on the table however as we were four people occupying it and our books were spread out everywhere.

I turned to see Oliver entering the library carrying a book in his hand. He walked up to a table while paying no attention to anyone else in the room and sat down at the only table left. Everyone had come back from Hogsmeade by now and were all spending their Saturday afternoon studying.

Oliver was out of his Quidditch gear and instead wore his usual Hogwarts uniform, but for the moment lacking his robe. He was indeed back into his careless demeanour. Sitting down now, he leaned across the table, almost laying down on it while reading and spreading out in that way that boys often do. I also noticed that his hair was wet. He’d come from the showers apparently. “Why does he always look so careless like that? He doesn’t ever care about anything besides Quidditch, does he? And he always dresses like a slob.” I mumbled irritably while studying Oliver.

“Stop obsessing over Oliver.” Angelina said tiredly. “Honestly, _how_ can I get you to pay attention?” She snapped a finger in front of me, causing me to look her in the eye.

“I’m not obsessing.” I sulked, dropping my head to the table. “It’s just annoying is all.”

Alicia tore her eyes from her book, “How is that annoying?” she asked.

I pondered this for a moment, but without coming to any conclusion replied, “It just _is_.”

* * *

Later that day I was in the library again seeing as I hadn’t made any progress earlier. It had been impossible to concentrate then. I honestly should have known better since I don’t concentrate well when I’m among friends.

Now however, the library was completely empty and had turned dark, Madam Pince had left long ago, but I needed to catch up on essays that were yet to be written.

The tiredness still had to be fought nonetheless, although as it got darker and the words of the pages blended together, I knew it was a battle I would eventually lose. I was twirling my now empty and cold teacup around in an almost trans-like state. Soon my mind was lost to the world of dreams and the only thing left to reality was my motionless, resting body.

When I woke up I felt like death. I wasn’t sure where or who I was. It took me a while, but once I had resolved those two points, I moved on to the third wavering question, what the time was. As I began collecting my books and etcetera, I had a nagging feeling that it was much later than I what had originally thought. Sleeping in the library wasn’t an option for me, I knew that much. But if it was as late as my gut feeling told me, walking back to the common rooms wasn’t going to be a fun activity.

Resolutely, I made my way toward the Hogwarts basement. The quick route would take me about 15 minutes if I walked quickly, the downside to taking that path however was that Mr. Filch was more likely to be lurking there.

When I took the careful first steps out of the library, entering the chilly and dark hallway, I could sense how late it was. The wind was still howling outside of the thick brick walls of the castle, but apart from that, there was no sound. There was no sign of Mr. Filch or his cat.

Only the eternal flame torches hanging on the walls lighted my way, and I couldn’t see the part furthest away in the long corridor I had embarked. Standing still I dreaded the fact that I would have to move closer to that darkness. I finally managed force myself to move through as silently as I could. The silence should have been welcoming, given how it meant that no one was there except for me, but even with that notion, it wasn’t. It spooked me how everything was so still except for the wind. Such a contrast from how I usually felt walking these corridors. I, like every other student here, loved everything about the castle. But everything at Hogwarts was different at night when you were, most likely, the only one roaming around except for Mr. Filch and his cat.

Trying not to think about the fact that I pretty much was an ant in a huge dark castle that could be compared to a maze, with a crazy man walking loose, looking for any reason to punish me, I continued on, walking as fast as I could without causing too much noise.

I had gotten about half way when I heard it.

_Tick tock, tick tock,_

_Goes the clock, goes the clock._

My pulse quickened radically and I stopped dead in my tracks, frozen in place. He would always be singing those nursery rhymes while walking about at the castle. During the day I didn’t really think much of it, but when it was night and there was no other human sound, it was creepy to say the least. It wasn’t very smart either, was it? Had I not heard him singing, I would’ve walked passed this linking corridor and most definitely been caught, I now had a head start instead.

Praying that Mr. Filch didn’t hear my heart pumping ever so loudly or my few steps toward the edge of the corner, I peeked around it, but Mr. Filch had his back turned. I took my chance and took my shoes off so that I would make as little sound as possible and continued straight ahead on light feet, passing Mr. Filch by as quickly and as soundlessly as I could. Without looking back I kept going in a quick pace and didn’t stop until after a few minutes. Only once I’d stopped did I put my shoes on again and let out a breath. It didn’t seem like he’d seen me because he wasn’t behind me. The sense of solitude washed over me once again and the journey back to my common room went seamlessly.

* * *

  **16 September 2018**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like/dislike anything about this chapter? Please let me know!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Last night had been a close call. If I had gotten detention again only a month after my last —or just the fact that I would’ve got it twice— would’ve been bad. I had to be the best I could be this year since it was my last. That meant no more detentions. I didn’t know how much it took to get one’s captainship taken away, and I didn’t want to find out either. Quidditch practises had just begun to feel enjoyable, now that all the unfamiliarity to being in charge had settled and I had begun to realise how nice it was to be able to control how I run my team. I was allowed to make the practises as fun as I wanted without anyone telling me otherwise. One detention I would have to live with however. Oliver had one as well and he was a good captain, so it didn’t bother me as much.

 _Oh my god,_ I thought. I sat up straight in my bed out of the mere realisation that I thought Oliver was a good captain. The scene I had witnessed yesterday with him being impossibly stubborn about his “talk” flashed before my eyes and I was filled with anger. _Oliver is stupid._ I saw his face the way he’d stood in front of me in the wind on the field yesterday and even more anger filled me. _Oliver has a stupid face,_ I thought with all the force I could, only to compensate for thinking a positive thought about him. That guy annoyed me more and more every time I spoke or thought of him.

* * *

“Didn’t really like this soup to be honest…” Wright piped up right in the middle of a frustrated conversation we were having about Flint. Those were typical during lunches. He was our main enemy on the Quidditch pitch after all. But there was something about the way she’d said it that pointed toward something else coming.

“…Do you think Flint would like to be covered in it?” There it was. She looked at something behind me with a raw tinge in her eyes. We all turned to see that Flint was the receiver of the look.

This sentence seemed to the untrained eye like any other rash threat without substance, and it was exactly that. To PJ however, this sentence peaked her interest. It opened a door to a number of exciting possibilities. “Let’s bet on it then.” She said, and that was really all she needed to say before all hell broke loose at the Hufflepuff table. PJ loved giving any situation higher stakes.

The whole gang and the girls from Gryffindor’s team, who on this day had decided to lunch with us, began to discuss what odds she should take.

“1-100 I reckon, if not more. I mean… she could potentially be murdered.” Alicia reasoned.

Wright and PJ sat quietly, looking at each other while the hell I mentioned before was doing it’s breaking.

“Alright!” Wright quieted everyone in that magical way that only she could. She wasn’t the most talkative, but she knew how to get the attention if she wanted it. “…You mean if I lose, I have to pour what’s left of my soup over Flint over there?” She searched everyone’s faces to see if we had all agreed.

“Exactly.” PJ smiled contently. Gee did she love the thrill of a little risk.

“What Alicia said sounds fair, I did propose the challenge after all.” Wright crossed her arms and leaned toward PJ on the opposite side.

“Pick a number.” PJ required. We had all played the game before and knew how it worked. Someone proposes a challenge, the contestant accepts the challenge and the odds, which can be anything depending on how big of a risk the contestant is willing to take. But they would usually have to pick a number between one and a hundred. On three both the contestant and the challenger say the number they picked at once, if they say the same number, then the contestant has to perform the challenge. In this case the challenge is quite a challenge so naturally, the odds of them picking the same number are low.

Bianca began the count excitedly and Wright who had looked calm up until then, now looked pretty anxious.

“40”

“47”

“Ooh, that was close!” Said Bianca. It was always “close” whenever we played this game.

Everyone returned to eating their soup in a quiet anti-climax. This being the downside to the game — we rarely ever got to actually do anything as we typically picked low odds. But there is nothing more thrilling than when two people pick the same number, the thrill of hearing them say it at the same time.

Bianca smiled and locked eyes with me. “Hey Willow, why don’t you go pour your soup over Wood?” She proposed while everyone ‘oohed’. They thought this was very amusing obviously, given how much I’d complained about him this past week.

“I’d rather not be near Oliver at this moment, even if that means I don’t get to witness his stupid face covered in soup.” I retorted dully while gathering my stuff to leave.

“Where is Oliver by the way? I need to talk with him.” Angelina asked no one really and without hesitation I pointed to his position further down in the hall at the Gryffindor table.

“There he is.” I got the feeling that I’d replied way too quickly. I felt a small blush coming on to my cheeks and I looked down, it was small but it was there, supposedly visible. I began to pick up my bag to leave but Bianca just _had_ to keep talking to me.

“If you and Wood aren’t friends, then why do you keep calling him by his first name? Isn’t that odd?” She looked around at everyone else to see if they agreed.

“Transfiguration is starting soon.” I asserted and stood up to leave.

“It only takes about 20 minutes to get there.” She nagged after me but I left the Great Hall without replying.

The fact that I called Oliver by his first name, a fact which everyone seemed bloody obsessed with at the moment, had a simple reason. It was because I previously believed we could be friends, but that was before I knew how impossible he was to be friends with, by which point I was used to it. Or actually, the primary truth was probably that I just liked the name, although I _hated_ the person behind it. But in truth, Oliver was a nice name and I liked using it, so in reality it doesn’t have anything to do with him.

The choice of words suddenly had me surprised. I didn’t usually use the “hate” word, even for Flint.

What bothered me so much about Oliver, and I believe was the result of the word use, was that he had all the potential in the world to be a good guy, even a friend of mine, but he insisted on continuing to be so unbelievably annoying.

* * *

“Penderghast.” Was the word that gave away all the hope I had of not seeing Oliver today. My pulse quickened, I felt like my body filling with fire.

“Yes.” I said while gathering my books without acknowledging him in the slightest, apart from my answer. He didn’t continue and I didn’t look but it seemed he was waiting for me to finish.

Like I thought, as soon as I turned to face him he opened his mouth to say something. I continued walking out of the classroom before he had a chance to. “If you want to say something to me, you’re going to have to walk while you talk.” I said.

He hurried along. “I just wanted to tell you that you can’t come to my practises anymore.” He said sternly and I stopped for a moment to look at him, but then I thought better of it and continued walking, settling on giving him an angry look and then keeping my head straight. It was best to keep my mouth shut so that I didn’t risk saying something mean in anger and regretting it later.

“You take everything too seriously.” I finally replied, unable to stop myself.

“You distract us.” Oliver said in return.

“Oh I couldn’t distract you Oliver, you’re far too focused to be distracted by anything besides Quidditch.” I said with faked assurance.

“But my teammates might not be as hard to distract as I may very well be.” He reasoned confidently while quickening his pace to keep up as I quickened mine. “I had a trip to the library to look up if there were any rules against watching another team’s practises… sadly there aren’t, if there were I would be taking this up with Professor McGonagall instead of you–“

“Pity.” I interrupted sarcastically and shot him a loaded look.

“ _So_ , I’m just going to have to ask you nicely–“

This got me. This really got me. “ _Nicely?”_ I spat out, interrupting once again.

“…Yeah?” Oliver looked confused so I decided to enlighten him.

“Asking me nicely is not the same as saying I _can’t_ be there anymore.” We rounded a corner and kept going down, steps after steps. _Was he planning on following me all the way down to the basement?_

“What would be the nice way of doing it then?” He asked curiously and again he seemed genuinely interested and I let out a small laugh. The utter amazement I felt had temporarily clouded my anger. He smiled with me although I don’t believe he knew what was funny.

I went back to my emotionless façade and said educationally, “Nicely would’ve been allowing me to be there, I’m only there to see my friends after all. You do believe that right?” I wasn’t sure he did. “Plus, I would’ve allowed you to come to my practises if you had a reason besides spying.” I said with a lift of my shoulders and stopped outside the door to my common room.

“And what if I still can’t let you be there?” He leaned against the wall while waiting for my reply.

I too, leaned against the wall, “Then you simply ask me to not be there, but you do it _nicely_.” I noticed that my voice had turned soft somewhere, and a crooked smile adorned my features for some reason.

He hesitated for a bit, then asked, “And what would be the ‘nice’ way of asking you?” while cocking his head to the side and smiling very lightly. It was sort of cute how clueless he was because he seemed to really want to understand, while at the same time, his tone was teasing.

“I don’t know, how about ‘please can you not come to my practises in the future because I believe it’s distracting’?” I took a step toward him with raised brows.

He still didn’t let go of my eyes, like he hadn’t during the entire conversation. “Please, Penderghast can you not come along to the practises in the future because I believe it’s distracting?” He said in a soft voice with lips that twitched.

“Why are you smiling?” I asked then, which caused the smile in question to disappear.

Oliver looked as if he had regained his  conscience after a long slumber. Without so much as a goodbye he hesitantly said, “I don’t know.” before doing a 180° and leaving the same way we’d come.

I stood and watched him leave in puzzlement before going inside the common room and closing the door behind me.

Merlin how he annoyed me! It annoyed me how he was 17 years old and still didn’t seem to know how to ask someone nicely. It annoyed me how he kept using my last name. Especially since I have a long and convoluted last name and Willow was much easier to pronounce, yet he insisted on using Penderghast. It annoyed me how he smiled when I was trying to be angry with him. And I didn't even want to think about the tiny smile that had adorned my face.

With a frustrated utterance I threw myself on the couch next to my friends. Bianca began to stroke my hair affectionately and I immediately tensed. It made me uncomfortable when people touched me suddenly. I didn’t want to make any sudden movements, didn’t want to make it seem like I was hesitant to the touch. Even though I was.

But once my thoughts retreated back to Oliver I stopped minding Bianca, “He’s so frustrating!” I shouted.

“Wood?” Bianca asked.

“Now I’m suddenly not allowed on his practises anymore.” I said dully.

“Well, Will, you are aware of the fact that you’re not a Gryffindor, aren’t you?” PJ asked me. Trust PJ to be unnecessarily rational. Sitting up I gave her dark look, but she went on, “I mean, surely you can’t expect to be welcomed by Wood on his practises?”

I didn’t answer for a while, feeling kind of dumb suddenly. “There isn’t a rule about it,” was all I could say.

“There isn’t a rule about it.” PJ agreed, but there was something about the way she’d repeated my words back to me that told me she didn’t see that as a good enough reason.

I kept making frustrated noises and Bianca kept stroking my hair until Wright said, “I like this.” with a smile.

“What do you like?” Asked Bianca curiously.

Wright motioned to me, “ _You_ , Will! You’re so rarely angry. It’s nice to see you all riled up about something. It’s like you… _care.”_

Funnily enough, this had me even angrier than before, and it was probably visible, because she was now smiling even wider. Damn, Wright really did enjoy my pain. What was even worse was everyone else seemed to agree with her…

 _I_ _didn’t care!_ I thought despairingly.

“I bet that PJ should sing the sorting hat’s song at the top of her lungs here in the common room tonight after dinner.” I said, mostly to get them talking about something other than me. PJ was the most fun to challenge because she was the most daring one of us, and therefore most likely to perform.

The night went on, as nights often tend to. Around dinnertime the rain had started pouring down like crazy, but PJ did cheer us all up (including the entirety of Hufflepuff house) with her horrific singing voice, and around 9 p.m. I was already in bed. I needed to get a lot of sleep because I wanted all the energy I could muster for tomorrow’s practise.

* * *

**20 September 2018**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like/dislike anything about this chapter? Please let me know!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Five hours was all the sleep I got. It had been nightmare after nightmare, any of which I couldn’t even remember now as I was in the locker room getting ready. After waking up a few times I’d gotten anxious about not getting enough sleep, which made relaxing and falling asleep utterly impossible.

I sat down on a cold bench while waiting for my teammates to arrive. There I sat, fully Quidditch-attired in the freezing locker room. Everything had been freezing since I had woken up; our dorm room; the Great Hall and the corridor. Freezing and deserted, since it was Sunday and people didn’t usually get up until much later than 8 a.m. Worst of all was the walk from the main entrance to the pitch in the October rain. I don’t even know if rain sufficed as an accurate description for what was going on outside, but it wasn’t nice. Like, it would’ve been nice if I could’ve spent the morning in the library reading about peculiar and interesting creatures or something equally equivocal. But for a Quidditch practise, I wasn’t sure.

Right then everyone abruptly flew through the door in unison. I stood and said. “Alright hurry up now.” Wright wasn’t even wearing a jacket.

“There wasn’t time.” She said dramatically before I’d even asked. It made me smile for the first time that day.

I went up to the door, took a deep breath to compose myself before heading out to set up the gear. I spotted a figure on top of the stands, there seemed to be someone sitting there, but they were far away and the rain was too thick to decipher who it was. It looked sort of comedic though, seeing the stands completely empty except for this one person, whom I was currently refusing to believe was Oliver in an act of revenge, huddled up against the rain.

Running out to the middle of the pitch I actually felt surprisingly comfortable, my Quidditch attire seemed sufficient for keeping me warm. I set down the box with the different balls feeling more excited than usual about a practise. The harsh rain would make this interesting.

I turned to see the rest of my teammates approaching me, they didn’t look happy, but I couldn’t help but smile as a blow of rain whipped the side of my face. “Alright!” I shouted. “Let’s not overcomplicate this. We’ll just do what we did last time.” Everyone nodded and I bent down to release the snitch. It soared slowly at first and then within a couple of seconds, it had disappeared completely. “To clarify: there’s going to be a routine practise today.” I kept shouting as they all got on their brooms, thinking it best to get out most of the core instructions right now so that everyone could act independently for the rest of the time, as it would be hard to instruct in this rain.

Ten minutes in I was trying to score on PJ, which was easier said than done. To be perfectly honest, I hadn’t seen much of what the others were doing; after the fog had set in it was literally impossible. I hoped they were alive at least. Cedric was worst off. I hadn’t seen him since he first got on his broom and flew after the snitch. When I say flew after, I mean arbitrarily choosing a path that probably wasn’t even in the general direction of it. I was getting worried for him though.

I could only imagine how much fun the unknown spectator must be having at this. _Why even bother?_ I wondered. _Oliver would_ , I mentally answered myself. I recalled that I had told Oliver that he could watch our practises if he had a reason besides spying. I pondered what his reason could be as I tried to score on PJ once again.

A figure appeared in the blink of an eye and crashed into me. It hurt and I tensed my grip around my broom intensely, I didn’t fall off thankfully.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Came Cedric’s voice.

“It’s alright.” I said while stroking my arm. “Honestly I’m just glad I found you. I thought you might be gone forever.”

“I thought I _was_ gone forever!” He exclaimed, eyes wide. “I honestly think I was by Hagrid’s hut at one point. It was insane.” His Devon accent displayed itself more than usual in his frantic state and I had to smile at him, at how cute it was.

Next I spoke to both Cedric and PJ, “We need to gather, you guys land by the hoops down there,” I pointed downwards. “I’ll tell the others to come too.”

Normally I would use the selected signs we had for signalling my wishes from a distance. Today was hopeless however and I had to fly around for several minutes to find the rest of my teammates individually and tell them what to do — such a bother.

When we had all gathered at the base of the hoops I directed my attention toward Cedric, “You never actually found the snitch did you?”

“It was impossible!” He defended.

“I’m thinking that at this rate it’s going to take you hours all by yourself. So instead we are all going to help you out.” I said enthusiastically and everyone looked at me quizzically.

“Okay.” Wright finally said uncertainly and got on her broom, the rest followed her example although reluctantly, and then we were off.

I hadn’t planned it to be, I would’ve never guessed it would be, but it was actually extraordinarily amusing — all of us, searching for the snitch in the thick fog. It went unsaid, but we all got really competitive during the quest, everyone seemed to have made it their own ambition to be the one who caught the damned thing. I’d rarely had so much fun at a practise. Normally we would all be divided into small groups and each group would do their own thing. There was a completely different dynamic today on the pitch. Despite us all competing against each other, we were connecting in a way we didn’t usually get to. It took us a long time and the fog had almost entirely cleared, along with the rain, when Cedric finally caught the snitch, flaunting his skill at the task. We all cheered and applauded him.

When we got back on the ground everyone was laughing about funny things that had happened in the air. I felt good being able to look out on the field with somewhat clear vision again and a big grin on my face. A grin which disapparated as soon as I spotted Oliver trudging toward us. I let the others chatter while I walked and met Oliver, completely taken by his still remaining presence on the pitch after the whole snitch-seeking extravaganza.

“You’re _still_ here?” I called in surprise once in hearing distance.

“Thankfully — it was quite a show.” His eyebrows were raised in a superior expression, while at the same time looking like he was about to let out a laugh.

I began to feel nervous, unsure of how to act around his ambivalence. Could I make a joke to diffuse the tension between us or was he about to dive headstrong into his typical nemesis-escapade?

“So… you came to watch?” I fumbled.

Oliver watched me carefully. Looking for any sign of discontent I’m sure. “There’s no rule, right?” He asked.

I sighed loudly, my predisposed perception of his intention was confirmed, and it tired me to no end. “Right,” I began. “And as we all know, you usually sit out in freezing rain to watch my practises, so you figured you might as well continue as ‘ _there’s no rule about it’_?”

There was no longer any hint of a laugh slipping out of Oliver at this point, nor out of me. “Never mind what I usually do, I’m here now anyway, I hope that isn’t a problem?” He asked nonchalantly, without looking my way.

I shrugged, although my eyes squinted viciously, “No problem. I just don’t see the point in coming out here in the freezing rain.”

“What can I say? I just really love Quidditch.” He shrugged.

I was about to question his motives, knowing very well that he only came out here for payback. Arguing this to him seemed silly however. To question Oliver’s love for Quidditch and what he would or wouldn’t do to watch it would be chewing more than I could actually swallow.

“It appears so.” I settled on instead. I walked back to my teammates, expecting him to leave then, but he followed me and greeted everyone cheerfully, almost suspiciously cheerfully if you asked me.

“You wanna stay for this as well?” I asked tentatively.

“Yeah. I mean, like I said before—“

“You _love_ Quidditch.” I mocked his tone of voice, slightly harsher than I had originally intended to.

I paused to collect myself. Everyone was looking at me expectantly, but I’d been thrown off my course when Oliver was suddenly apart of our routine. “Right!” I finally began, “Let’s do the… thing where we go around the group...” I made a circle with my finger.

“How eloquently put.” PJ joked, causing everyone to laugh, even Oliver seemed to think it was funny. I gave him a reproachful look and to my surprise he seemed to cool off instantly once he’d caught sight of it.

I then moved on to PJ and gave her the same foreboding stare, but only replied with an attempt at an unbothered beam. I shrugged it of, furrowing my brows in concentration. I was trying to find my way back to that focused Willow we’d seen not ten minutes ago. I brought my fingers to my temple. “You know what I mean! Where everyone says something they did good — Cedric, you start.”

Oliver laughed, “That’s silly.” He said, as if he wasn’t quite yet content with my level of frustration.

“We’ve been trying to tell her.” Wright agreed.

“Is everyone against me today or what?” I exclaimed wide-eyed. “I thought we agreed it was constructive! A good way to go through everything, have a discussion and get everyone involved so that we can learn from _each other_!” I ranted in one whole breath.

“Alright Will, calm down. We’re only teasing.” Oliver laughed. At first it was like he didn’t realise he’d said it. But when he received befuddled looks from all of us the realisation dawned on him; not only had he failed to use my surname, but he had also replaced it with my Quidditch name.

We all give each other nicknames on the team, so that it’s easier to shout on the pitch. Now, my friends and I have gotten so used to our names through the years that we always use the short versions, that’s why we say Wright and not her first name, which is Aurora. No one outside of our team ever uses them, not even Bianca, except for PJ’s nickname, as it wasn’t given to her for Quidditch purposes.

When Oliver realised what he’d said he almost _flinched_. “Sorry!” He blurted.

“Why are you sorry?” I asked in frustration. _Why is he so uptight about the name thing?_ But instead of waiting for a reply I turned to Cedric again, motioning for him to begin.

“…I mean, how can I not bring up how I finally caught the snitch after a whole practise had been dedicated to catching the bloody thing?” He said proudly.

Jason gave a small applause, “And not only catching it, but cleverly managing to divert my course when I was just about to dive for it.” He smiled at Cedric, who bowed.

Once we were finished the smile from before had made its way back to my lips and my frustration had disapparated instead. “I think I might just keep flying for a bit.” I told the team, “You guys go ahead.”

“Aren’t you meeting Graham in the library?” Wright asked, acting as my assistant.

“Right!” I slapped my forehead in distress. “What’s the time?” I asked them, but Wright’s words were caught only by the wind as I had already broke into a jog toward the locker rooms.

* * *

When I entered the dimly lit library an hour later it was the first time that I’d felt warm that day. I walked further inside to Graham’s and my usual spot. I had a specific spot with each one of my friend groups, but ours was particularly fortunately placed. It was in a corner with a couch, a chair and close to a fireplace, which meant extra heat. Perfect for a day like this.

Graham was emerged in his parchment, writing fiercely. He looked up for a second and greeted me with only a small gesture of his hand.

I threw myself on the couch and snuggled down into a horizontal position on the couch, not even bothering with a greeting in return. I could tell he was busy right then and didn’t want to do anything to disrupt him. I watched him as he wrote and I could see that he was smiling at what he was writing. Which would be odd, seeing as he was clearly doing homework, but knowing Graham it was a common fact. It meant that he was being brilliant and he knew it.

After a while his hand stopped moving and he sat up straighter while stretching his back and examining his work with a satisfied smirk. He turned to me, “I’m brilliant,” he said self-righteously. I smiled with a shook my head against the soft cushion I was laying on.

Graham lay down with his head to the right of mine and I moved so that we were both staring up at the ceiling.

“That can’t have been a pretty practise.” He said moments later, referring to the rain that had begun to thunder against the windows once again.

“It was super fun!” I chimed, to his amusement.

“ _Of course_ it was.” He said sardonically. “I mean, how can Quidditch in the thick fog _not_ be fun? It’s not about seeing the ball after all; it’s about _feeling_ the ball and about the kinship of being together in that moment and knowing that you are a part of something greater, some magical force that can’t be _seen_ , but you can only be discerned spiritually! …It’s just all very spiritual, your practises, I would assume.”

I shoved his face lightly with my hand, “What are you on about?” I asked, obviously apprehending that it was plain mockery and choosing to ignore the miniscule envy I felt at him being able to phrase himself so seamlessly. “Are you on a high from that paper you’re writing?”

“The paper writes me, Willow.” I shoved his face with my hand again.

He grabbed hold of my hand to stop me from shoving him, “I didn’t know it was beating Graham day?” He said.

I tried to detach myself from his grip, “I didn’t know it was annoy Willow day…” I bickered back. “…Speaking of; guess who came to watch our practise today.”

Graham finally let my hand drop, “Oliver Wood.” He said without needing to ponder for even a second.

“You guessed right.” I said bitterly. “There he sat in the freezing rain _all throughout_! All because I had been _waiting_ for Alicia and the others on his practise! Can you believe it’s finally been confirmed? — He’s mental!”

“Did you cause a scene again?”

“Not really… It’s just frustrating, that’s all.” I thought back to the way Oliver had laughed at the constructive criticism segment. “…And he questioned my methods!” I added in a flurry.

Graham was quiet and I could tell he was thinking. I let him be. Curiously I waited for him to give me some hint of what was on his mind.

“How come Wood and you are not friends?” He asked finally.

“Maybe because he comes to my practises in an act of revenge, questions my methods while he’s at it, and always seems to be wanting to pick a fight with me.” I said sourly.

“No, but really?” Graham pushed, seemingly not thinking I was being genuine.

“Really.” I asserted.

He was quiet again, and once more I let the seconds tick by while I curiously waited. When he’d finished his thinking again he said, “It’s just, you’re quite alike if you think about it.”

I let my curiosity take the lead instead of being offended and asked, “What do you mean?”

“Willow, I’ve never seen anyone play Quidditch for as long as you and not lose interest after a few hours. When you finally step of the pitch, or when you’re dragged of, you still continue to ramble on about it with the same undying enthusiasm. It’s ridiculous!” He stopped to let the words sink in. “And I’ve never seen anyone heckling his teammates the way Wood does in the corridor. You two go about it in quite different ways, but the passion is the same, exactly the same. It all comes down to Quidditch for both of you in the end.”

A high pitched, “Umm...” was all that escaped me. Being dragged under the same comb as Oliver was not something I typically enjoyed, but Graham was making a good point, and I wasn’t sure how to discredit it.

“I’ve also never seen you hating this much on a Gryffindor, which is an interesting turn of events.” Graham said with a pleased tone of voice. It was a well-known fact that Slytherin and Gryffindor had an unspoken rivalry, and Graham approving of my opposition to one did not come as a surprise.

I furrowed my brows, once more regretting the harsh words I’d used against Oliver in my head yesterday. “Hopefully it’ll pass.”

I think Graham sensed my discontent and spoke with more empathy henceforth, “It’s quite peculiar to me… You know how we said that one time that I have one of those logical brains and you have one of those fun brains.” We both laughed, “Well, this is one of those things that doesn’t add up in my logical brain. You usually get on really well with Gryffindors.”

“I _still_ get on well with all Gryffindor’s,” I argued, “it’s just that not all Gryffindor’s get on well with _me_.”

Graham laughed again and we lay there quietly until Graham’s break was over and he had to get back to his books. I however, was too comfortable and warm to open a book. I stayed put until I drifted into a sleep.

Graham woke me an hour or two later. I sat up drowsily. “Why do I keep falling asleep in the library? Why do I never get anything done?” I queried once I’d regained full consciousness.

“I don’t know, but dinner is being served as we speak and I think we better get down there before all the good stuff is gone.” His bag was already around his shoulder and a book was in his hand that hadn’t fit in his bag.

“Alright.” I said and stood, not needing to gather my things as I hadn’t even un-gathered them in the first place.

* * *

Upon entering the gigantic hall we power walked, almost ran to the Slytherin table. We half sat/half stood in the same motion as we heaved food unto our plates, not wanting to miss out on any of the better foods.

“I reckon you need some more of that.” Graham said and heaved an embarrassing amount of mashed potatoes onto my plate.

“Dude, stop.” I laughed, trying to stabilize my grip on the plate from the unexpected extra weight.

“Penderghast.” I heard Oliver’s voice behind me.

My eyes shut on accord as if in an attempt to salvage my pulse, to just take a moment to myself before I inevitably had to enter another round with Oliver.

“You always seem to want something with me Oliver, why is that?” I challenged once I’d turned his way.

His eyes glazed over Graham and the rest of the people at the table with a sceptical expression. “Why are you sitting here?” He asked curiously.

“So that I can have nice conversations with nice people. So far it’s not going very well.” I said with fake patience and a hard stare. He looked at me for a long time then, as if trying to figure something out. I didn’t bother to wait for him to do so, because I felt an urge to tease him instead. “Must be a mouthful,” I began, and then paused for effect. “Always using my last name, even in casual conversation.” I played with the word on my tongue for a bit. “Penderghast, Penderghast, Penderghast… it’s a bloody awful name to be honest. Long. Complicated. Containing lots of different letters. Must be tiring.” I said with faux empathy. “You know, nothing bad will happen if you just say Willow instead.” I stated reassuringly and crossed my arms. “The name isn’t cursed.” He was still looking at me intensely. Come to think of it, I wasn’t even sure why I wanted him to call me Willow.

“Why do you want it so bad?” He asked, as if reading my mind.

This shut me up. I hadn’t thought of that. Before waiting too long and admitting insecurity I asked, “Want what?” My eyes didn’t really meet his.

 _“Why do you want me to say your name so bad?”_ He repeated calmly.

“Ohh, Wood, say my name!” I heard someone behind me exclaim in fake desperation and a couple of following laughs. Damn Slytherins.

I blushed, but we both ignored them. Without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked away, probably thinking he’d won, but I couldn’t let that happen. “You’re too uptight!” I shouted after him in an act of actual desperation. But he didn’t even turn around and it only caused more people around the hall to acknowledge the scene.

He’d caught me off guard. Now I was left wondering if he’d originally come over to make amends.

* * *

  **29 September 2018**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like/dislike anything about this chapter? Please let me know!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

I jumped into PJ’s bed to wake her up. “It’s Hogsmeade day!” I yelled enthusiastically. She made a sound and I kept talking so to not let her fall over asleep. “Can you believe it? Three weeks has already passed since last time! Can you believe it?” When I didn’t get a reply I kept saying, “Can you? … Can you?” Over and over until she let out an angry “ _Yes,_ I can believe it!” and sat up. I always woke up first, which meant that I was the designated waker-upper of the remaining company.

“Come on guys,” I moved on to Bianca, whom I’d just climbed over annoyingly, that would usually suffice for her to wake. “Get up or I’m going to start singing, and you all know what that’s like.” I made my way to Wright’s bed and sat on her, lifting her wrists and shaking them. “I’m feeling extra loud this morning as well.”

Feeling that my work was already done as they were all making strange noises in the act of getting out of bed, I went and lay on my bed instead. I had already gotten dressed and brushed my teeth, so I just floated some stuff on my nightstand with my wand as I waited for them excitedly.

Last Hogsmeade date I hadn’t been able to go because of homework, this week I had made sure to get it all done in time. A feat I had barely managed and also meant I had to stay up an hour longer than everyone else to plan the Quidditch practises for that week and my eyes now felt a little too itchy. I tried to pretend like I was my normal self, but had it not been for Hogsmeade I’m not sure I would have been able to get up.

I listened to Wright’s singing. In contrast to me, she genuinely had a lovely voice. This took me off guard as she rarely ever sang. I didn’t recognize the song. It was probably one of those punk-esque songs she always listened to. Wright was one of those people who you’ll think you know, and then the next day, she’ll do something in direct contrast to what you previously thought about her. It’s what made her special. She was like an advent calendar; once in a while she would open a new box and let you in on a new surprise.

“So we were thinking, Willow…” Bianca slurred with her toothbrush in her mouth while leaning out of the bathroom door. I paid half of my attention on her and the other half to my levitation spell. “…That maybe you could ask your Gryffindor friends to join us. Angelina and the others, you know.” She retrieved into the bathroom again.

“Yeah sure.” I said a tad louder.

Moments later she emerged again and walked up to where I was laying. I could feel her hesitating before she spoke, “And maybe you could make sure Wood joins as well.” She said with almost laughably fake nonchalance. I noticed that the room was unusually quiet.

“Why?” I asked. My levitation charm had stopped and I was sitting up.

“We know you don’t particularly like him, Willow…” She trembled pleadingly, “But he’s kind of cute and we thought it might be fun to have him around.”

I deliberated whether the word cute and Oliver went together. “He’s a bit stiff though, isn’t he? Don’t you think he’ll just ruin the mood?” I reasoned.

“Well, we thought about that, but then we thought…” Bianca had a hard time getting the next words out and she looked around at the others, “We thought maybe he’s only stiff when he’s talking with you...” The volume of her voice went down a ramp throughout the sentence, stopping at barely vocal.

“You think so?” When she saw the look of dread on my face she realised her poor choice of words.

“Oh, shit, sorry! I didn’t mean for it to come out like that!” She grabbed my shoulder fervently.

“Good job Bianca.” Came PJ with a pat on Bianca’s shoulder. “Look Will, we thought it might be fun if he joined us, but if you are uncomfortable, you don’t have to ask.” PJ said.

“I’m not uncomfortable!” I said suddenly. Something inside me really didn’t want my friends to think the situation made me uncomfortable.

As I made my way up to Gryffindor tower I imagined my friends flirting all day with Oliver, and I almost felt like staying home. My expectations on this day had lowered dramatically in the last hour.

Once I had reached the portrait hole I had to stop to catch my breath before entering. “Fortuna Major.” I said finally, and the Fat Lady opened the door without even acknowledging me. I thanked Merlin they hadn’t changed the password and I would’ve walked this whole way for nothing. I spotted Angelina and Alicia sitting by the fireplace.

“Willow.” Alicia announced my presence. They both greeted me with surprised looks on their faces.

Not bothering to explain myself, I moved on to my question. “Me the others were wondering if you guys would like to come with us to Hogsmeade?”

“Yeah, of course, we were just about to leave as well.” Alicia said with enthusiasm.

“Great.” I said, but I couldn’t make myself smile, as I knew what I had to do next. They sat there looking at me expectantly, sensing that I wasn’t finished. “…And ask Oliver to come as well.” I finished uncomfortably. A blush was forming on my cheeks so I turned and walked straight out.

“Okay!” They yelled after me. I was originally supposed to have walked down with them to meet with my friends by the main entrance, but I couldn’t bear to stay with them. I had wanted to tell them ‘It wasn’t me who wanted Oliver to come! It was my friends!’ I couldn’t expose them like that.

Anyway, I just felt so embarrassed. Oliver and I were always annoyed at one another, how weird it must’ve seemed to them that I was now asking him to come along and have butterbeer with my friends. Merlin. I began to run in mere frustration, but stopped soon to catch my breath. I walked down the rest of the path until I met my friends, who looked confused.

“They’ll be here soon.” I said, sparing them the details. “Are you playing the hand-matching game?” I asked as I could see Wright’s hand in a weird position.

The hand matching game was one of our “eternal” games, and one PJ had come up with. Someone makes a weird pose with their hand and the others have to match it. It’s eternal because if you agree to play the game, you can’t ever escape it, and whatever situation you’re in, if you see one of the participants holding their hand up in a weird position, then you have to copy it with yours. It has led to several hilarious conversations with teachers, mainly Snape. Bianca and PJ didn’t look that into it at the moment though, as they kept throwing glances at the stairwell.

When the others arrived I didn’t greet Oliver, and I tried to ignore him as much as possible as we walked toward the train to Hogsmeade.

It was hard ignoring Oliver though, since my friends were all hovering next to him while I walked with the rest of the Gryffindors behind. It was an embarrassing sight, they didn’t realise how obvious they were being, I was embarrassed for them. Like, I got it; Oliver was a new person who had taken a central role in their life recently, something which I take part of the blame for; it must be exciting for them, but he wasn’t that interesting, really.

Bianca turned around and met my gaze briefly, a deadly mistake as I had already planned for this. I reacted rapidly and her eyes widened in horror. My hand had lifted in a particularly intricate pose.

Bianca’s backstory with this game was that she had rarely been put in any situations that were too embarrassing, and she had so far never once backed out. None of us had yet to back out actually, and all of us would rather be seen dead than backing out. She had however, just been about to say something to Oliver when she had been interrupted and she looked quite fear struck at the moment. She gave me one last look of anger before replacing it with one of concentration, focusing on my hand now.

I couldn’t help but burst out laughing as she tried desperately to match the pose as quick as she could. PJ instead tried to catch Oliver’s attention, but it was too late, he followed Bianca’s stare and his eyes landed on me. Our eyes met as I was still laughing at Bianca and he was wearing a curious expression.

“Is this it?” Bianca exclaimed hopefully to me, not even bothering to be quiet about it.

“No.” I laughed. “You’re missing the finger.” Everyone now looked on in confusion, as they weren’t aware of the game that was taking place. PJ and Wright were laughing, much like me, out of malice. Bianca gave up and instead went to slap me playfully on the head. Not much else happened before they were all ‘huddled’ next to Oliver again.

I sighed. My friends were obviously not going to be any fun being around today.

* * *

I pulled my hand into my sleeve to cover myself from the cold and wet door handle, leading us into the Three Broomsticks. We got a table booth in the far back of the pub.

Closing my eyes out of weariness I listened to the rain falling against the windows while the others ordered.

“We’ll just have seven butterbeers and… Willow, what are you having?” Bianca asked in a compassionate tone, probably worried that I wasn’t having fun or something.

“I’ll just have some water please.” I said once I’d opened my eyes. “I don’t drink magically obscured drinks.” I explained to the others before they had a chance to ask.

“How come?” Angelina asked after the waiter had left.

“Umm, let’s see, what excuse should I use this time…” I pondered jokingly. “I promised my parents I wouldn’t.” I settled on, only half serious. Oliver snorted at this and I gave him a look.

He seemed to come to his senses then, “No, I mean, I actually think it’s great.” He said quickly.

“Yeah well, we all promised.” Alicia said bitterly and took a swig of her mug that had just been handed to her by the waitress. I was generally worried when this topic came up, that people would be offended by my choice to abstain from something that was such a big part of their everyday lives, but in this case they seemed only amused by my reasoning.

It wasn’t as crowded in the Three Broomsticks as usual because of the rain and the time of day. But as the hours passed, more people gathered and the rain persisted. This was my favourite thing to do in Hogsmeade, not run around from store to store, but simply sitting in the pub and talking with my friends. Graham had stopped by our table a while ago, a nice surprise. He didn’t stay for very long though, out of discomfort around my friends I would assume.

Both Oliver and I had both left the table several times at spotting a fellow teammate in the pub. Going to such a large school meant it could take days before the next opportunity to talk to someone arrived again, which meant that one had to seize any opportunity to talk practises and the likes.

As everyone got tipsier they also seemed to find everything funnier. I would always copy my friends’ behaviour in these situations. So if my friends got noisy and careless, I would also find myself relaxing and being a lot louder. Quite a few people had come and gone in the time we had been occupying the booth and by the second round of butterbeers (“Round three!” someone called just then), it was ridiculously crowded. People were standing by the table and sitting on the backrests.

All was fine though and we were having fun. It was only when the betting game rolled around that it got awkward. If someone was to be blamed for it, it would be Bianca. I now wanted to curse myself that I hadn’t left before it had all begun.

“I bet that you _won’t_ kiss Willow, odds 1-10!” Bianca had shouted at Oliver and laughed too loudly.

“That doesn’t make sense.” Oliver reasoned calmly. I noticed he wasn’t as drunk as the others. “Why would you bet that?” Everyone around went ‘oooh’, but Oliver wasn't easily discouraged, “No, but isn’t the whole point of the game to get people to do things, not refrain from doing things?”

I was torn between wanting Bianca to explain herself and wanting her to shut her mouth completely for the rest of the day, but she sat up straight as if getting ready to explain, and when she did, she did so sloppily and convolutedly, “We make people do what they _do not_ want to. So I’m betting on you to _do not_ snog her because you _do not_ want to not snog her.” Bianca said as if it was the most logical thing a person had ever said. Oliver rolled his eyes. Everyone around us seemed to think that Bianca was _truly_ amusing.

“Why would you do this?” I shot at her angrily. “Why do you love to make things uncomfortable for other people?”

“Just take the bet.” Some unknown person in the crowd said, and then someone began counting. “One…” I was gawking at Bianca, but in my head I was thinking of what to do. “Two…” It seemed silly to refuse the bet, I’d never refused before and I didn’t want anyone to think I was refusing because I had romantic feelings toward Oliver. “Three.” In a lack of a better idea, combined with panic, I simply blurted:

“Three.” And Oliver did exactly the same.

I was quiet for the rest of the night. Everyone probably thought I was lame because of it, but I didn’t really care. I was frustrated with Bianca. She loved to put other people in uncomfortable situations; she got a rush from it. She’s exactly the type of person who would say something like. “Get a room.” Merlin I hoped she’d never say that to Oliver and I, or anyone and I for that matter.

* * *

“Hey Penderghast…” Oliver said later in the evening when we were back at Hogwarts. We were just about to part with the Gryffindors. I usually got annoyed at the use of my last name. Today however, when already in a bad mood, and having been hanging out with Oliver in a un-Quidditch related situation, (as friends, one might even say) you’d think he’d finally give me the decency of using my _first fucking name_. Long story short, I wasn’t annoyed, I was pissed off.

“Oliver.” was all I said back. We stopped while our housemates went ahead to our individual common rooms.

“Ooh, still mad?” He asked, finally distinguishably drunk when I didn’t have the others to compare him to. “Because now you don’t get to kiss me?” He teased. Anger flared inside me. Not because of what he’d said, I knew he was only teasing, but I was still stuck on the name-thing. I’m stubborn like that.

“Goodnight, Oliver.” I said coolly and followed the others, very behind now.

 _How does he even dare?_ I thought.

I ran up to my friends and barely made the stairwell before it moved. I had to jump with it moving, which was strictly forbidden, but I was angry.

“Well that wasn’t easy.” PJ was saying when I entered the conversation. “He was impossible to talk to, seemed completely disinterested all day.”

“Sorry guys, but I told you he’s stiff.” I said knowingly.

“I’m sorry Willow!” Bianca burst in her drunken state and I froze mid-step. She was drunkest out of them. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable! I was upset about Oliver being so boring with us when I see how he is with you.” She moped.

“How he is with me? As I told you this morning, he’s stiff.”

“He might be callous even with you,” PJ, who had also stopped walking now, said, “But he’s also angry with you, and sometimes he even smiles, or tries to be polite—”

“At which point he fails miserably.” I interrupted.

“And when he does, he gets awkward and self-conscious!” PJ erupted, like she’d solved a riddle, a riddle I couldn’t solve, so I choose to ignore her.

“Then, by your logic,” I motioned to my friends, who were now circled around me on a stairway that kept taking us further from our destination every time it moved. “You’d rather he treated you the way he treats me, you’d rather he’s an asshole to you?” I said through raised brows, thinking that I’d won, thinking they couldn’t possibly agree with that.

“ _Yes!_ Much rather!” Bianca said immediately. I gave her a confused look, but when I looked at the others, their nods told me that I had in fact lost. Even Wright, who didn’t seem all that interested in this conversation in the first place, signalled her agreement.

“The grass is always greener on the other side, I guess.” I replied.

* * *

**7 October 2018**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like/dislike anything about this chapter? Please let me know!


	7. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Lying on the floor of the Stone Bridge Tower I looked up at the ceiling above me. It was late and I knew that I probably wouldn’t be back before curfew, but I tried not to think about that, tried to live in the moment. I still felt very full from all the pastries I had had with Graham and sick enough to be unable to form a coherent thought anyhow.

I gazed up at the rounded ceiling in my gruesome stupor. Like many of the Hogwarts castle ceilings, this one had been embellished with an enormous illustration. I didn’t believe many students of the school had even noticed it was there, mostly because people hardly ever went here. I didn’t blame them, as it wasn’t the most exciting of towers. I only went here because it was closest the tower to my dorm. With a school as grand as this one, it was easy to miss little gems like this one.

Because this was the Stone Bridge Tower, and it was closest to the greenhouses, the painting featured things that related to nature, in service to that. In its centre, taking up more space than anything else, was a thunderbird with its wings flaunted. Half of the background depicted a thunderstorm, gradually turning into serene weather conditions on the other half. There was a wide range of different creatures and plants spread out across the painting. Pomona once told me that there were over a hundred bowtruckles placed throughout the picture. Whenever I lay there, which I did from time to time, I would try and spot one I hadn’t spotted before.

I lay there for I don’t know how long until I heard footsteps coming toward me. Someone was walking up the staircase and I prayed to Merlin it wasn’t Mr. Filch as it was probably nearing curfew now. I was sort of scared as I lay there, not daring to move. I then further prayed that it wasn’t Oliver when I realised that that could be a plausible explanation as well. PJ had after all thought that he wanted to speak with me. I tried to calm myself, thinking that it was irrational to assume that Oliver would be out of his dorm this close to curfew anyway.

But his figure was still the one that appeared at the top of the stairs. Funnily enough, for the first time this week, he brought with him a wave of relief. As it turned out, no matter how annoying Oliver Wood could be, I would much rather take him than Mr. Filch.

Despite the relief, I hadn’t forgotten who he was and I proceeded to turn my attention back to the painting. I focused what was now a glare on the thunderbird above me.

Curtly I said, “I thought you were seeking PJ?” I tried not to appear awkward, even though it felt odd lying down in the middle of a conversation.

Trying not to look at Oliver I listened to his voice as he spoke, “Jansson you mean? I wanted to talk to her as you are not… um… but she told me that I’d better take it with you, and she referred me to this place.” His voice was soft as he moved around the tower, not quite familiar with it. I once again tried not to pay his movements any attention.

My eyebrows fell into a frown. _How come PJ didn’t have my back?_ I gave a sigh, mostly for show, “So what am I doing now that’s troubling you, Oliver?”

He’d been looking out a window, but now he stopped and turned toward me, but I stayed put, “I’m just curious as to what you’re trying to pull.” Tone no longer soft.

“What ever do you mean?” I asked with half interest.

“You can’t book all week.” Oliver said simply. So that was why he’d come here, honestly I was disappointed. I’d thought at least he’d have an _acceptable_ reason for hunting me down.

My eyebrows were raised, “If that is the _sole_ reason you came down here, then you need to sort out your priorities.”

“It is the reason.” He declared, and I might have detected a little bit of uncertainty in his voice.

I wasn’t upset, I only felt tired. Tired by the fact that his plan didn’t cut any deeper than _yet again_ involving an attempt at antagonizing me. I just wanted it all to be over, this whole conversation. “I didn’t mean to, okay?” I said calmly. “I booked loads of practises in stages and abruptly it came to my attention that I had unknowingly booked a greater percentage of the week than a single team is allowed to.” I finally sat up and raised a finger, “However.” I met Oliver’s appearance and registered briefly that his clothes were as unkempt as usual, “I wasn’t aware of this rule. So there you go, I didn’t try and sabotage anything for you, I know you have an upcoming match and I wish you the best of luck. Case settled.” I said and lay down again, expecting him to leave.

I stayed like that for a while, waiting for the sound of footsteps. But they never came. I waited a while longer, now feeling quite awkward again. _Just leave_ , I thought. Then came a few cautious footsteps toward me. I heard him sit down.

“You know they tell you that.” He said matter-of-factly. “Before you start, they tell you about the practise percentage.”

I was taken with how _not_ accusatory he was sounding, he still had that superior essence to him as he spoke, but there was something else to it, amusement maybe? “Yeah well, maybe I wasn’t listening as usual.” I said bitterly.

“Don’t you care?” he asked curiously.

I sat up, giving him a view of only my back, “It’s not really a choice that I have, whether or not I’m going to listen to someone.”

“Concentration problem, huh?” Now he was even sounding compassionate, what was going on?

“Yeah. You could say that.” I answered sarcastically while drawing my nail against the wooden floor, the Stone Bridge Tower was one of the few places that didn’t have a stone cold floor and one of the reasons I liked it.

“Anyway.” He said from behind me. “I don’t think you should get yourself too down about it… anyone could make that mistake.”

I turned around and faced him, “I’m not down about it. You’re the one making a fuss.”

“Right. All I’m saying is _anyone_ could make that mistake.” Oliver trained his eyes on mine.

“Stop making a fuss!” I made sure to say the words clearly so that he would understand each and every one of them. _Who was the one with a concentration problem now?_

Oliver tore his eyes from he for a second. He looked up at the painting and seemed to realise why I’d been staring at that it ceiling for such a great percentage of our interaction. He breathed in deeply, “ _I’ve_ made that mistake.”

I finally understood what was being said, what was being admitted to me. He was admitting fault, and possibly trying to bond with me? It was one of those times when I got a glimpse of a genuine side of him that wasn’t cold and analytical and aware of patterns and trends.

I almost smiled, but thought better of it. One wouldn’t want to go too far. I decided to tease him instead, “Oh. Well… that’s okay Oliver, like you said, it can happen to anyone.” I threw his words back at him sarcastically.

Oliver smiled, and I noted that smiling was an okay thing to do. “Yes. I know. I’ve done it several times.” He said proudly. I wasn’t surprised by this fact, instead a smile spread across my lips when I pictured Madam Hooch confronting Oliver about it. When I turned my attention back to Oliver, he was looking insecure, “And… I _also_ didn’t realise I was doing it…”

Once again it seemed he was implying something, yet I wasn’t sure as to what it was. “Like you said, it could happen to anyone.” I repeated once more.

Oliver switched in his place, “Yeah… or I mean… I guess it _could_ happen to anyone, but it doesn’t really happen to most people. Although now, it’s happened to you.” He cleared his throat and focused on me entirely, trying to make sure I understood, “What I’m saying is—“

“We’re both pretty intense.” I finished for him, half joking. I had finally understood what he was saying, possibly even why he had come to meet me. I wondered if Oliver even realised this himself or if he kept telling himself the same old thing he’d told me when I’d been lying down before. Despite the side of him that desperately wanted to make me into an enemy of his, there was also a side that saw similarities between us, similarities others had had to point out to me.

“Well...” He said under his breath, switching between my eyes. He had that look that one usually catches Dumbledore wearing, like he is analysing one’s every move. I almost regretted sitting up and facing him.

“And then again maybe not.” I further contemplated. “I was at your practise, remember? It was planned out to the minute. You guys were as automatic as the brooms you sat upon. Didn’t look like much fun to be honest, and it’s hard to make Quidditch look not-fun.”

He paused and looked at the floor. He’d been this way ever since he sat down. Deep in thought, like he wasn’t really there. When he spoke, he did so quietly and thoughtfully. “Quidditch is fun, I love the sport. But I also love the competition, the strategic parts of the game, maybe even more. But you’re right, it’s been long since the last time I flew simply because it was fun. I sort of longed for that when I watched your practise…” He admitted, and with a glint in his eye added, “Although your team was a _mess_.”

“That’s not true!” I hit his shoulder, “Besides, you caught us on a bad day! It was pouring down!”

At that he sort of woke up a bit, “ _Yes,_ and that’s the thing!” he exclaimed passionately. “It was a bad day, yet your team was having a blast. You made me long for playing Quidditch just because it’s fun to fly on a broom, or to be up in the air and not have an end goal with it — a plan.”

I considered what he was telling me for a second. He was opening up to me slightly, and I should return the favour. _Slightly._ “…And I guess I couldn’t hurt me to focus on the competitive part of the game as well as the fun part. It would be a nice service to the Hufflepuff team if we actually won for once.” I mumbled.

Oliver smiled. He looked kind for once. But the moment was completely destroyed by what came next out of his mouth. “I feel for you. I almost want to help you win. Now, I won’t though. Would never.” He emphasized.

I pushed his shoulder harshly again and he almost fell back. “You fucking asshole! Don’t for a second think that I would need _your help_ to win.”

He was fighting back a smile, and this time it didn’t make me happy. He seemed like he wasn’t hearing a word I was saying, like he was thinking of something entirely different. “Why. Won’t. You. Ever. Sodding. Listen!” I said whilst pushing his shoulder rigorously. He was full on grinning at me now. His manner had changed at the playful touch, as if he was having fun and I realised that what he’d said might just have been intended as banter. Just then something clicked for me. He was enjoying this. This might be what he had wanted all along. He liked the rivalry. It was his way of connecting. Maybe that was why he had been ragging off my team in detention, hoping I would fire back. Maybe that’s why he’d still come to wish me luck. Maybe it had actually been genuine.

“Because! You’re not saying anything of _remote_ interest to me.” He fired back with a wide smile.

I actually smiled back then, my hostile feelings had gone away. “No, because if it’s about anything besides Quidditch, not a word enters your head does it?” I slapped his head lightly, which ruffled his hair up and his hand instinctively went up to straighten it out. He always seemed to be doing that, fixing his hair. It bothered me because I liked his hair better when it was wild, like it would be right after he left the pitch, the wind having done its job perfectly. “I take it your O.W.L.s went well?” I finished sarcastically, staring at him.

Oliver had an intense look about him, with a smile still plastered on his face heat was radiating of him. I didn’t know what had stirred it, but I didn’t want it to stop so I thought best to continue on.

“I mean you’re a sodding menace,” I began. He waited expectantly for what was about to come. “I mean look at you!” I continued, motioning at him.

And next my body acted on its own accord.

Surprisingly I moved closer and began to button his shirt, while freaking out inside as to what I was doing. I decided to try and focus on getting the buttons sorted instead of trying to figure out why I was doing it. I carefully buttoned two loose buttons on Oliver's shirt, leaving the last one open to give him some breathing room and catching a glimpse of some of his smooth skin underneath in the process.

Oliver had frozen at the sudden close proximity. I decided to meet Oliver's sensitive stare for a moment.

I then lifted my hands toward his tie and he inhaled deeply. I straightened the tie and he willingly let me, raising his chin to give me access to it. I made sure I kept my head low to not meet his eyes again as we were quite close and I knew that that could get awkward easily.

I was about to tuck his shirt in but I managed to just stop myself upon recognizing that we weren’t _that_ close. Figuratively speaking.

“I’ll let you do that part.” I said instead and moved back again across the floor, raising my knees and folding my arms around them.

He did tuck his shirt, to my gratification. Not particularly well however and I was itching to get back over there again and finish his job for him as he left some of it un-tucked. Everything had gone quiet. Oliver had switched from fiery to cautious. He even looked a little puzzled. His hand flew up to his hair again, to sort it out.

“It’s late.” I said. “Or it seems so a least. I mean, it’s dark out, so it must be late.” I paused. “It’s _probably_ late.” 

 _Stop talking,_ I told myself mentally while in the motion of standing up to leave. Upon standing I felt how cold I’d become during the hour spent here. I wanted to leave quickly, get back to my common room, where I hadn’t set foot since this morning. The thunderbird still hung over us. Oliver was watching it, probably out of a lack of other options since he didn’t want to meet my eye.

“Goodnight.” Oliver said, not moving a muscle.

“Yeah, see you later.” I said while backing away, before making the brave decision of leaving without him.

Out and about and inhaling the fresh air of the corridor again it felt like I’d been under water for some time and that I was finally allowed to breathe again. I felt tense as I walked, but gradually it ran off me and a smile began to form. I smiled the whole way back to the badger sett and the smile didn’t falter once. As I got into bed and tried to relax, I felt a minor ache in my cheeks. I had been smiling a lot more during the course of the day than I’d realised.

* * *

**11 October 2018**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like/dislike anything about this chapter? Please let me know!


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Lying on the floor of the Stone Bridge Tower I looked up at the ceiling above me. It was late and I knew that I probably wouldn’t be back before curfew, but I tried not to think about that, tried to live in the moment. I still felt very full from all the pastries I had had with Graham and sick enough to be unable to form a coherent thought anyhow.

I gazed up at the rounded ceiling in my gruesome stupor. Like many of the Hogwarts castle ceilings, this one had been embellished with an enormous illustration. I didn’t believe many students of the school had even noticed it was there, mostly because people hardly ever went here. I didn’t blame them, as it wasn’t the most exciting of towers. I only went here because it was closest the tower to my dorm. With a school as grand as this one, it was easy to miss little gems like this one.

Because this was the Stone Bridge Tower, and it was closest to the greenhouses, the painting featured things that related to nature, in service to that. In its centre, taking up more space than anything else, was a thunderbird with its wings flaunted. Half of the background depicted a thunderstorm, gradually turning into serene weather conditions on the other half. There was a wide range of different creatures and plants spread out across the painting. Pomona once told me that there were over a hundred bowtruckles placed throughout the picture. Whenever I lay there, which I did from time to time, I would try and spot one I hadn’t spotted before.

I lay there for I don’t know how long until I heard footsteps coming toward me. Someone was walking up the staircase and I prayed to Merlin it wasn’t Mr. Filch as it was probably nearing curfew now. I was sort of scared as I lay there, not daring to move. I then further prayed that it wasn’t Oliver when I realised that that could be a plausible explanation as well. PJ had after all thought that he wanted to speak with me. I tried to calm myself, thinking that it was irrational to assume that Oliver would be out of his dorm this close to curfew anyway.

But his figure was still the one that appeared at the top of the stairs. Funnily enough, for the first time this week, he brought with him a wave of relief. As it turned out, no matter how annoying Oliver Wood could be, I would much rather take him than Mr. Filch.

Despite the relief, I hadn’t forgotten who he was and I proceeded to turn my attention back to the painting. I focused what was now a glare on the thunderbird above me.

Curtly I said, “I thought you were seeking PJ?” I tried not to appear awkward, even though it felt odd lying down in the middle of a conversation.

Trying not to look at Oliver I listened to his voice as he spoke, “Jansson you mean? I wanted to talk to her as you are not… um… but she told me that I’d better take it with you, and she referred me to this place.” His voice was soft as he moved around the tower, not quite familiar with it. I once again tried not to pay his movements any attention.

My eyebrows fell into a frown. _How come PJ didn’t have my back?_ I gave a sigh, mostly for show, “So what am I doing now that’s troubling you, Oliver?”

He’d been looking out a window, but now he stopped and turned toward me, but I stayed put, “I’m just curious as to what you’re trying to pull.” Tone no longer soft.

“What ever do you mean?” I asked with half interest.

“You can’t book all week.” Oliver said simply. So that was why he’d come here, honestly I was disappointed. I’d thought at least he’d have an _acceptable_ reason for hunting me down.

My eyebrows were raised, “If that is the _sole_ reason you came down here, then you need to sort out your priorities.”

“It is the reason.” He declared, and I might have detected a little bit of uncertainty in his voice.

I wasn’t upset, I only felt tired. Tired by the fact that his plan didn’t cut any deeper than _yet again_ involving an attempt at antagonizing me. I just wanted it all to be over, this whole conversation. “I didn’t mean to, okay?” I said calmly. “I booked loads of practises in stages and abruptly it came to my attention that I had unknowingly booked a greater percentage of the week than a single team is allowed to.” I finally sat up and raised a finger, “However.” I met Oliver’s appearance and registered briefly that his clothes were as unkempt as usual, “I wasn’t aware of this rule. So there you go, I didn’t try and sabotage anything for you, I know you have an upcoming match and I wish you the best of luck. Case settled.” I said and lay down again, expecting him to leave.

I stayed like that for a while, waiting for the sound of footsteps. But they never came. I waited a while longer, now feeling quite awkward again. _Just leave_ , I thought. Then came a few cautious footsteps toward me. I heard him sit down.

“You know they tell you that.” He said matter-of-factly. “Before you start, they tell you about the practise percentage.”

I was taken with how _not_ accusatory he was sounding, he still had that superior essence to him as he spoke, but there was something else to it, amusement maybe? “Yeah well, maybe I wasn’t listening as usual.” I said bitterly.

“Don’t you care?” he asked curiously.

I sat up, giving him a view of only my back, “It’s not really a choice that I have, whether or not I’m going to listen to someone.”

“Concentration problem, huh?” Now he was even sounding compassionate, what was going on?

“Yeah. You could say that.” I answered sarcastically while drawing my nail against the wooden floor, the Stone Bridge Tower was one of the few places that didn’t have a stone cold floor and one of the reasons I liked it.

“Anyway.” He said from behind me. “I don’t think you should get yourself too down about it… anyone could make that mistake.”

I turned around and faced him, “I’m not down about it. You’re the one making a fuss.”

“Right. All I’m saying is _anyone_ could make that mistake.” Oliver trained his eyes on mine.

“Stop making a fuss!” I made sure to say the words clearly so that he would understand each and every one of them. _Who was the one with a concentration problem now?_

Oliver tore his eyes from he for a second. He looked up at the painting and seemed to realise why I’d been staring at that it ceiling for such a great percentage of our interaction. He breathed in deeply, “ _I’ve_ made that mistake.”

I finally understood what was being said, what was being admitted to me. He was admitting fault, and possibly trying to bond with me? It was one of those times when I got a glimpse of a genuine side of him that wasn’t cold and analytical and aware of patterns and trends.

I almost smiled, but thought better of it. One wouldn’t want to go too far. I decided to tease him instead, “Oh. Well… that’s okay Oliver, like you said, it can happen to anyone.” I threw his words back at him sarcastically.

Oliver smiled, and I noted that smiling was an okay thing to do. “Yes. I know. I’ve done it several times.” He said proudly. I wasn’t surprised by this fact, instead a smile spread across my lips when I pictured Madam Hooch confronting Oliver about it. When I turned my attention back to Oliver, he was looking insecure, “And… I _also_ didn’t realise I was doing it…”

Once again it seemed he was implying something, yet I wasn’t sure as to what it was. “Like you said, it could happen to anyone.” I repeated once more.

Oliver switched in his place, “Yeah… or I mean… I guess it _could_ happen to anyone, but it doesn’t really happen to most people. Although now, it’s happened to you.” He cleared his throat and focused on me entirely, trying to make sure I understood, “What I’m saying is—“

“We’re both pretty intense.” I finished for him, half joking. I had finally understood what he was saying, possibly even why he had come to meet me. I wondered if Oliver even realised this himself or if he kept telling himself the same old thing he’d told me when I’d been lying down before. Despite the side of him that desperately wanted to make me into an enemy of his, there was also a side that saw similarities between us, similarities others had had to point out to me.

“Well...” He said under his breath, switching between my eyes. He had that look that one usually catches Dumbledore wearing, like he is analysing one’s every move. I almost regretted sitting up and facing him.

“And then again maybe not.” I further contemplated. “I was at your practise, remember? It was planned out to the minute. You guys were as automatic as the brooms you sat upon. Didn’t look like much fun to be honest, and it’s hard to make Quidditch look not-fun.”

He paused and looked at the floor. He’d been this way ever since he sat down. Deep in thought, like he wasn’t really there. When he spoke, he did so quietly and thoughtfully. “Quidditch is fun, I love the sport. But I also love the competition, the strategic parts of the game, maybe even more. But you’re right, it’s been long since the last time I flew simply because it was fun. I sort of longed for that when I watched your practise…” He admitted, and with a glint in his eye added, “Although your team was a _mess_.”

“That’s not true!” I hit his shoulder, “Besides, you caught us on a bad day! It was pouring down!”

At that he sort of woke up a bit, “ _Yes,_ and that’s the thing!” he exclaimed passionately. “It was a bad day, yet your team was having a blast. You made me long for playing Quidditch just because it’s fun to fly on a broom, or to be up in the air and not have an end goal with it — a plan.”

I considered what he was telling me for a second. He was opening up to me slightly, and I should return the favour. _Slightly._ “…And I guess I couldn’t hurt me to focus on the competitive part of the game as well as the fun part. It would be a nice service to the Hufflepuff team if we actually won for once.” I mumbled.

Oliver smiled. He looked kind for once. But the moment was completely destroyed by what came next out of his mouth. “I feel for you. I almost want to help you win. Now, I won’t though. Would never.” He emphasized.

I pushed his shoulder harshly again and he almost fell back. “You fucking asshole! Don’t for a second think that I would need _your help_ to win.”

He was fighting back a smile, and this time it didn’t make me happy. He seemed like he wasn’t hearing a word I was saying, like he was thinking of something entirely different. “Why. Won’t. You. Ever. Sodding. Listen!” I said whilst pushing his shoulder rigorously. He was full on grinning at me now. His manner had changed at the playful touch, as if he was having fun and I realised that what he’d said might just have been intended as banter. Just then something clicked for me. He was enjoying this. This might be what he had wanted all along. He liked the rivalry. It was his way of connecting. Maybe that was why he had been ragging off my team in detention, hoping I would fire back. Maybe that’s why he’d still come to wish me luck. Maybe it had actually been genuine.

“Because! You’re not saying anything of _remote_ interest to me.” He fired back with a wide smile.

I actually smiled back then, my hostile feelings had gone away. “No, because if it’s about anything besides Quidditch, not a word enters your head does it?” I slapped his head lightly, which ruffled his hair up and his hand instinctively went up to straighten it out. He always seemed to be doing that, fixing his hair. It bothered me because I liked his hair better when it was wild, like it would be right after he left the pitch, the wind having done its job perfectly. “I take it your O.W.L.s went well?” I finished sarcastically, staring at him.

Oliver had an intense look about him, with a smile still plastered on his face heat was radiating of him. I didn’t know what had stirred it, but I didn’t want it to stop so I thought best to continue on.

“I mean you’re a sodding menace,” I began. He waited expectantly for what was about to come. “I mean look at you!” I continued, motioning at him.

And next my body acted on its own accord.

Surprisingly I moved closer and began to button his shirt, while freaking out inside as to what I was doing. I decided to try and focus on getting the buttons sorted instead of trying to figure out why I was doing it. I carefully buttoned two loose buttons on Oliver's shirt, leaving the last one open to give him some breathing room and catching a glimpse of some of his smooth skin underneath in the process.

Oliver had frozen at the sudden close proximity. I decided to meet Oliver's sensitive stare for a moment.

I then lifted my hands toward his tie and he inhaled deeply. I straightened the tie and he willingly let me, raising his chin to give me access to it. I made sure I kept my head low to not meet his eyes again as we were quite close and I knew that that could get awkward easily.

I was about to tuck his shirt in but I managed to just stop myself upon recognizing that we weren’t _that_ close. Figuratively speaking.

“I’ll let you do that part.” I said instead and moved back again across the floor, raising my knees and folding my arms around them.

He did tuck his shirt, to my gratification. Not particularly well however and I was itching to get back over there again and finish his job for him as he left some of it un-tucked. Everything had gone quiet. Oliver had switched from fiery to cautious. He even looked a little puzzled. His hand flew up to his hair again, to sort it out.

“It’s late.” I said. “Or it seems so a least. I mean, it’s dark out, so it must be late.” I paused. “It’s _probably_ late.”

 _Stop talking,_ I told myself mentally while in the motion of standing up to leave. Upon standing I felt how cold I’d become during the hour spent here. I wanted to leave quickly, get back to my common room, where I hadn’t set foot since this morning. The thunderbird still hung over us. Oliver was watching it, probably out of a lack of other options since he didn’t want to meet my eye.

“Goodnight.” Oliver said, not moving a muscle.

“Yeah, see you later.” I said while backing away, before making the brave decision of leaving without him.

Out and about and inhaling the fresh air of the corridor again it felt like I’d been under water for some time and that I was finally allowed to breathe again. I felt tense as I walked, but gradually it ran off me and a smile began to form. I smiled the whole way back to the badger sett and the smile didn’t falter once. As I got into bed and tried to relax, I felt a minor ache in my cheeks. I had been smiling a lot more during the course of the day than I’d realised.

* * *

**14 October 2018**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like/dislike anything about this chapter? Please let me know!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

“I wonder what creatures think of us.” Wright said while she stuffed her mouth with pieces of toast she’d tore off. Wright carried the controversial opinion that the more food you propped into your mouth at once, the better it tasted. I wasn’t sure if I agreed with her.

“Witches have categorized, labelled and researched their behaviours. Even lived with them for long periods of time only to study them! But do you think the creatures care about us in the same way? Do you think they’d ever do the same for us? I don’t think so.”

I couldn’t help but smile at her absurdness. “Maybe they do. Maybe that’s why gnomes infest our gardens.”

“That would explain a lot actually.” She laughed, and I believed she understood that I was only making with the funny. But her expression turned into that of a thoughtful one and she looked down at her bowl of cereal in a way that could only be explained as absent for there was no way she could find cereal that interesting otherwise.

I scanned the Great Hall and I had to mentally slap myself because that was maybe the seventh time I’d done so since Wright and I had sat down. Apparently my subconscious wanted to see Oliver but _I_ wanted to not care. Instead I caught sight of the rest of our friends coming to finally join us for breakfast.

“Finally, you guys are up!” I called and simultaneously woke Wright from her daydream in doing so. “Took you _hours_ to get here, didn’t it?”

“Honestly Will, we left like 30 minutes after you guys.” Said PJ, a sleepy expression on her face. “Did Oliver get a hold of you yesterday? I thought referring him to the tower would be the safest bet, although I have been wrong about these things in the past.”

I gave her an incredulous look. “He did find me, and about that — why couldn’t you have just told him something instead of referring him to me?”

“ _Because_ , he was all upset with you about the fact that you had accidentally booked all week, he thought you’d tried to cheat or something.” PJ explained.

“But you _knew_ that I hadn’t, you knew it was a mistake, so why didn’t you simply tell him that and it would’ve been sorted!” I wasn’t even sure why I was mad to her. Oliver and I had after all sorted the whole thing out and were now on what I believed to be pretty good terms. But how could anyone have known that yesterday when all I wanted to do with Oliver was avoid him at all costs. Why couldn’t she have respected that?

PJ looked around the table where we sat to make sure no one had noticed out argument, and proceeded to whisper frantically at me, “ _Because!_ I don’t want to have to act like an owl between you two. Besides, I can’t be bothered with this little feud of yours anyway, I want _you guys_ to talk, so that _you guys_ can sort it out!”

I sat back in disbelief. I couldn’t believe PJ was actually upset with me. I didn’t think that had ever happened before. It got me thinking that maybe I should tone down my complaining about Oliver. Maybe that was what annoyed her. Hopefully, following yesterday night it would naturally set into motion down a spiral.

“When are you going to stop being this irate with everyone?” PJ asked. “It’s Flint then Oliver and now it’s even me you’re angry with.” She buttered a piece of bread firmly. “You’re going to have to stop somewhere, it won’t be good for you otherwise. Maybe try imagining others complexly for once.” Disregarding the sandwich she turned her attention fully toward me. “I mean think about it, why are you even upset now? Because I wanted you to patch things up with Oliver?”

Before I could retort though, right out of nowhere, Wright just said, “Wonder how creatures know where to pee? When they’re marking their territory and all that. I mean, it’s not like they have maps of that shit, do they? How do they know?”

PJ glared at Wright, “They obviously have a heightened sense of smell than we do.” She answered, visibly annoyed at the interruption.

“So they just smell where others have peed?” Wright asked and Bianca rolled her eyes for all of us. It was quite obvious what Wright was doing.

“Guess so.” PJ said and bit hard into her sandwich.

But Wright only kept on going, apparently she had thought about this matter long and hard and had a lot of questions, “They’d have to smell _everything_ , wouldn’t they? Wouldn’t that get really tiring in the long run?”

“No, they sodding love it!” PJ ejected with bread still in her mouth. “Have you ever seen a hippogriff? They smell everything. They love to smell stuff! It’s what they do all day and they love it. The hippogriff goes around smelling others’ pee, and then the hippogriff pees, itself, so that the others can smell it in return. It’s an endless cycle.”

“Hmm, okay.” Wright finally seemed to be finished with what was an infinitely unnecessary conversation.

Wright often acted as some sort of guardian to us. Whenever we would enter a risky conversation, she would steer the subject in a safer direction. The reason behind it being that she didn’t care for arguments and drama. She was probably the most chilled person I’d ever met. She just wanted to have a laugh. Which was why we worked so well together.

Her distraction seemed to have helped. Both PJ and I had cooled down and were now staring at the table in silence.

PJ turned to me, “Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to direct him to you. I don’t even know what’s going on with him. He seems to have some sort of vendetta against you. I mean seriously, what was he even angry about yesterday?” She took a deep breath. “Anyway, I just thought maybe you guys needed to talk alone for a bit and you’d sort things out. It might have been wrong of me.”

Jokingly I said, “Maybe Oliver should imagine me complexly.” with a smile her way. “I’m sorry I’ve been so angry, you guys.” I said on a more serious note and turned to the whole group.

“We think you might have been under a lot of pressure lately with the captainship and school and… yeah.” Wright said sympathetically. I had my suspicions that her ‘yeah’ might have referred to the Gryffindor captain.

“I think so too.” I said uneasily. “But I’ve had you guys to help me. And Oliver and I, we sort of… talked yesterday. Things will be better now, I think.” I laid my hand on PJ’s shoulder with a sheepish smile, “So maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea at all. I think it might actually have worked.”

“Good that.” PJ replied.

* * *

It wasn’t until later in the day that I met Oliver again. I was in the library trying to finish last week’s homework, before my friends would arrive and we would all finish this week’s homework.

I was submerged in reading the same sentence in one paragraph of _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ over and over again, waiting for my mind to function, when he slumped down right next to me. I looked up in surprise, hair doing a pirouette as I did so.

Oliver inhaled sharply.

He was sitting so far down in the seat that his neck was leaning on the top of the backrest. It didn’t make sense to me how that could be a comfortable position. But he was smiling with his hands in his pockets and bag disregarded on the dusty floor.

“Are you _trying_ to annoy me? Like, are you deliberately doing this to me?” I laughed. I had been feeling quite giddy about Oliver all day, though I hadn’t seen him around. That giddiness rose in me again at the encounter.

“What?” he asked nonchalantly and his smile spread even wider.

I was referring to his general appearance. He was as untidy as ever, wrinkly shirt and all. Although I didn’t mind his hair, my eyes traced the mess on his head. It did something to me, his hair looking like that.

I took a deep breath and my muscles relaxed. “I hadn’t thought, before now, that it was possible to lie down on a 90 degree angled couch. It’s like when a baby is playing with one of those toys and it’s trying to fit a rectangle shaped piece inside a round hole.” I said and laughed. “Can’t you at least sit up?”

Oliver sort of shrugged and ran a hand through his hair, still smiling, still as untroubled as ever. “Are you saying I’m a baby?”

“I’m not saying you’re a baby, it was merely an analogy. What I’m saying is you have baby like traits.” I shut the book in front of me with a flick of my hand, which made a muffled popping sound. I had given up on finishing the paragraph anyway.

Oliver raised his eyebrows, “I have baby like traits?”

In lack of anything to reply with, I strummed a rhythm against the table and peered at the rows of bookcases, bedecked with large books I would never read.

“Merlin, I really do have a talent for stirring you up don’t I?” he looked almost proud.

Oliver had laid a stack of parchments on the table in front of us. He had written on them what looked like actual notes from lessons, and I almost wanted to congratulate him, but I then discerned that all the space around the notes were covered with different Quidditch diagrams. “Typical.” I thought.

No wait, I’d said it out loud.

I grabbed the piece of parchment and examined it closer. “You’re such a stereotype of yourself, you know that? Why couldn’t there have been, I don’t know… drawings on here? Why does everything have to be about Quidditch?” I realised as I spoke that, much like yesterday with PJ, this wasn’t a solid reason to be frustrated. But Oliver was still smiling at me from his concave position like he appreciated the unsolicited ramble, so I kept going, “You just had to transform this innocent piece of parchment into a display of your unwavering obsession. None goes unharmed when it comes to the _epidemic_ that is your affinity for Quidditch! Not even this parchment of what is supposed to be notes, which you are supposed to be _focusing on_ during class.”

Oliver didn’t look all that fazed, he sat up slowly and slid the book in front of me toward him, “You’re the one to talk?” He said, “As if you never think about Quidditch during class? Here you are doing last week's defence against the dark arts essay.” He motioned at _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts,_ ”Or is that book just a trick of the light?”

I tried not to look fazed either, tried to keep the light-hearted expression Oliver was wearing. But honestly, I felt kind of fazed. Maybe I was just as two-dimensional as I had long believed Oliver to be, only one thing in my head. Unable to read so much as a sentence of something that wasn’t _Quidditch Through the Ages,_ or the likes of it.

“It’s a trick of the light.” I tried disgracefully and made an attempt to hide the book under my robe, but Oliver had another plan. He snatched the book away from me and once again slid it back toward him, flipping the cover open. There, all around the pastedown, one could see clearly that I had doodled small (you guessed it) diagrams.

“Is this a trick of the light as well, then?” He feigned some well-acted disappointment in me, “And a book belonging to the school’s very own library as well!” he said. “This is vandalism, you know!” he continued humorously. “What would Madam Pince say?”

At that moment, both our heads turned toward a gap between the bookcases ahead of us where Madam Pince had a clear view of us from her desk. Only, the typically highly attentive librarian was currently busying herself with other tasks, to my pulse’s benefit. Once again Oliver had stunned me, making me realise that I was just as bad as him. I hadn’t even realised I’d been scribbling on a library book, and suffice to say, I now had a hard time looking Madam Pince’s way.

Instead of replying to any of Oliver’s remarks I shot him a glare. But once again, Oliver wasn’t fazed. He leaned forward, and said with sudden sincerity, “Also, I thought you liked Quidditch? Right now you’re sounding like you detest anything that has to do with the sport. What’s up with that?”

“I do like Quidditch! Just look at the book for Merlin’s sake!” I had to stop and take a breath, gather my thoughts before I continued in a calmer state, “It’s just that… people are unities — containing many parts that make a whole. You can’t _just_ like Quidditch. That can’t be all of you.”

“Okay.” He said, expression becoming determined, determined to think of something. To my intrigue, he took the parchment I had studied minutes before, the one with the Quidditch diagrams on the sides and handed it to me. Then proceeded to sink down his seat to the peeving position he had been in earlier. I decided not to mind him and turned my attention toward the parchment.

With a barely distinct “Ooh…” out of my mouth, I saw that in the middle of the paper, inside of the diagrams, were not words, but number charts.

Once I tore my eyes from the charts I saw that Oliver had now sunk all the way to the floor to take solace under the table. “I like arithmancy.” He said.

I had to briefly deliberate whether sitting down on the floor was an ordinary thing people did when in the middle of a conversation. But settled on, no — it was definitely not.

“You take arithmancy?” I asked, and after some careful consideration I slid down until I was sitting right next to him under the table. Oliver mumbled something in response but I didn’t catch it. His shirt had rid up a little around the stomach area during the motion of his decent and I had to make sure I didn’t look anywhere that was skin.

Skin is annoying, because whenever it appears you have to regard where you keep your eyes. Suddenly, there are rules to where you can have a look and even though it might not be a sexual look, you can’t have it! It’s annoying as heck because if there is ever a certain place you aren’t allowed to even glance at, then that’s where your mind will automatically wander. You just have to pray that your eyes don’t tag along.

“I was thinking…” Oliver began tentatively. He was toying with a hem on his bag. “…It might be fun to play Quidditch sometime.”

I was about to act ignorant and remind him that he does play Quidditch ‘sometimes’, if ‘sometimes’ is every other day. But I decided this was one of those moments that didn’t need a snide remark from me. “Yeah, that might be fun.” I settled on saying. “If one wasn’t as automatic as their broom.”

 _Damn it!_ I cursed myself for being unable to hold my tongue.

Oliver laughed heartily, to my relief. “ _Alright,_ you already said that.” He reminded me. “And anyway, I could be… less… automatic.” For the first time since I had sat down next to him under the table, he looked me in the eyes.

“You think so?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Well… It wouldn’t be a practise, and so it wouldn’t have to be structured. It would just have to be… _fun,_ I guess.” He sounded like he wasn’t sure if he was using the word right, like the word was a new addition to his vocabulary. But instead of finding his stiffness agitating, like I usually do, I caught myself being amused by it. It felt sort of nice experiencing Oliver with a tinge of reluctance as he spoke of this hypothetical Quidditch playing that was simply just for ‘fun’.

“And you’re sure you’re up for it?” I asked. “Because as you say, it would have to include _fun_ , it would entail _loosening up_.”

He rolled his eyes, “Oh come of it Willow! I can be _loose_.”

My eyes widened in surprise. It once again took him a moment to realise he’d said it, and when he did, he sat up straight (for once in his life,) although in doing so he quite unfortunately hit his head on the edge of the table right above us. It looked painful yet I couldn’t help but fall into a grin from the entertainment of witnessing the chain of events unfold before me, like domino pieces tumbling to the ground, one by one. Especially when what had caused them to cave, to me, seemed like the touch of a light breeze.

“You’re right, you can be loose.” I giggled, “Just not when it comes to Quidditch, or using my first name.”

From what I’d gathered, Oliver wanted to have fun — and he’d used my first name for a second time! This was too good to be true. I looked at him in a way that one just can’t take their eyes of a new-born kitten as it fumbles around on the floor, trying to take its first steps. He really was fumbling. He was fumbling for his bag; he fumblingly stood up and he fumblingly said;

“Anyway, I should return to my studies.” Not even minding what I’d just said.

He gave my approaching friends a nod and then turned the corner of a bookshelf and was gone from sight. As soon as he’d gone and my friends drew nearer to me, I became rapidly aware that I was sitting under a table.

“Why were you and Oliver sitting on the floor?” Wright asked curiously.

“I think we might be friends.” I smiled as I tried to get up from under the table, a tricky business.

“That’s nice.” Said Bianca. “Do you think it’ll work out?”

“I don’t know.” I felt an urge to contradict the friend-conjecture I’d just made and therefore said, “He’s a bit of a slob isn’t he?”

“We should probably find a bigger table if Alicia and Angelina are joining us later.” Wright interrupted. I gathered my things and we all moved further into the library.

“Why do you care if he’s slobby when you’re the biggest slob in the world?” Bianca asked upon getting seated at the bigger table.

“I’m not the biggest slob in the world!”

“You haven’t even started on the game plan for our match against Gryffindor.” PJ contended before I had barely finished defending myself.

“That’s sloppy, not slobby.” I reasoned.

PJ didn’t seem to find my reasoning to be reasonable, and she stared at me intently. “I think they’re the same thing, if slobby is even a word, that is.”

Choosing to ignore PJ’s last statement, I pondered further the intricacies of Oliver’s behaviour out loud, “I guess it’s not so much that he’s a slob and more that he’s just sort of… _careless.”_

“Careless like not bothering to come up with a game plan when there’s only two weeks until the actual game in question?” Wright suggested with an ironic undertone.

I gave Wright an unamused look, the others laughed and once they’d settled down we all seemed to unspeakably agree to end the conversation and open our books.

I kept reflecting over the interactions Oliver and I had had over these past 24 hours. (It’s just what I like to do when I’m supposed to be studying.) We’d been acting toward each other in an entirely different way than just a day or two ago. Now we were being sort of ludic toward one another and… having banter? I think the culprit was the events that had taken place yesterday in the tower. As soon as he’d shown a little compassion toward me and I had, in return, begun to joke around with him, all hostility had melted away and a somewhat serene atmosphere had taken its place.

When studying with a group of dear friends, it can be quite entertaining, but it can also take many more hours than it should. A couple of hours passed and we decided it was best to go back to our dormitories. We collectively shook Angelina awake. She drowsily stood up to gather her stuff without saying anything; she looked dead. It can’t be easy having Oliver as your captain. He really must run them down. He really must be run down himself.

I went ahead of the others and turned the corner where Oliver had disappeared a couple of hours earlier. I found him sitting alone in an armchair with a single light brightening his array of parchment spread out un-neatly over a small table. He looked half asleep and his hair was thoroughly dishevelled. Again, it can’t be easy being Oliver Wood, captain of Gryffindor Quidditch team.

He looked up at me with his sleepy eyes and I gave him a tentative smile. He looked down at his parchment.

“We’re leaving now.” I said.

He gave me a nod back.

_Is he embarrassed or something?_

I waited for him to say something, even look at me.

“Okay... Goodbye then.” I said once I’d realised he wasn’t going to spare me any more pleasantries and turned my back to leave.

“Goodbye, Penderghast.” Oliver mumbled behind me.

Slowly I treaded back to my friends. Body tight, shoulders tight. I felt like everything was contrasting greatly to how it had been just a couple of hours earlier, when I’d thought Oliver and I had got on quite well.

A comment someone had made a couple of weeks ago re-entered my memory, “Maybe he’s only callous when he’s talking to you.”

The comment latched itself to my brain and stayed there for the remainder of the evening until I fell asleep back in our dorm that night.

* * *

**17 October 2018**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like/dislike anything about this chapter? Please let me know!


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The next couple of days everything seemed to have slowed down. I had decided not to bother with Oliver anymore as I found that figuring him out took up too much headspace and I didn’t have the energy for it, I mean how can it be this hard to just be friends with someone? So I decided upon avoiding him.

Quidditch practises were nothing out of the ordinary; we were up to speed again, which felt good. The same couldn’t be said for schoolwork however and I would often find myself rushing back to the common room after having spent hours in the library, barely making it back before curfew.

I mostly spent time with Graham and my Hufflepuff mates, and more often than not, we would actually hang out all five of us. My friends seemed to enjoy having Graham in our company, and he, likewise, seemed to enjoy theirs as well. Seeing Graham laugh as much as I did in their company took a weight of my chest. Knowing Graham, he could get really stressed out over his matches. He puts this massive pressure on himself that he has to be perfect to the last detail and it’s not doing anything good but making him morbid. He wasn’t the only one. For Roger Davies and me, this week was like no other. But for the remaining Quidditch captains at Hogwarts who had a match this Saturday to prepare for — this week was hell. It didn’t help that the Gryffindor/Slytherin matches had some sort of frenzy surrounding them. I couldn’t imagine what pressure that must put on the teams to perform well. I hadn’t heard much from Oliver lately. I’d mostly seen him around the Great Hall looking sullen. Once or twice I’d seen him in our shared classes, where he saw it fit to catch up on sleep. He had tried to talk to me once or twice after class, and he’d seemed on the cheerier side. But I still thought it better to not bother with him as he only caused much unwanted confusion in my life.

While walking down the hallway from one of these particular classes came Roger Davies up to me from behind.

“Enjoying watching the other captains succumb to the stress?” He asked sadistically.

Startled I twirled around to look at him only to quickly relax thereafter. We walked together. “Yes, very much. It’s times like these we can truly appreciate not being put in the notoriously competitive houses. We never have to put up with all this madness.” It was true that the same kind of tension had thickened distinctly in the way that it does every year around this particular game. I had witnessed two duels break out this week, and heard about two more.

“Things have gone a bit crazy. But we’re lucky. We’re on the outside looking in.” He said and gave me a smile, which I returned.

We sauntered on in silence until Roger said, “Tutor me.”

“What? Why?” I asked confused.

“I’m falling behind in herbology. Further and further every week. I have decided to seek help… from you.” He said it as if he wasn’t really all that certain of it himself.

I broke out in laugher and stopped walking. “You want me to help you out in herbology?” He gave me a quizzical look that told me he apparently had no idea of why I was laughing, which is odd given how obvious it felt to me. “First of all: that’s a stereotypical view of my house. Even though _generally_ Hufflepuffs might have a knack for herbology, that doesn’t make us all into sodding _expert gardeners_ and certainly not into equipped tutors in herbology. Especially not me!” He merely folded his arms, looking amused at my reasoning. “And secondly: you’re a Ravenclaw. Shouldn’t you be equipped to handle something as fairly simple as herbology?”

He leaned himself against the stone wall casually and gave me a challenging look. “Who’s being prejudiced now? Sometimes even Ravenclaws need help you know.”

I thought about this for a moment. “Fair enough. You know what? I think I will help you out. I know a thing or two about herbology. And it might be good for my ego.” I began walking again.

“So you’re saying you need to grow your ego?” He laughed.

“ _Yes_. I do. Here’s your first lesson: A group of bowtruckles is called a branch.” I proudly shared with him.

“First of all, a bowtruckle is not a plant. Second of all, I don’t really see how that could be of use to me in the quest to better my grade.” Roger criticised.

I shrugged nonchalantly. “I wasn’t the one who choose me as a tutor. You dug your grave, now lie in it.”

He stopped by a staircase; this was when he would begin ascending the stairs leading to his common room. “See you soon then I guess.” He said and gave a small wave.

“Before you go. Can I just ask you, in all seriousness, why you actually came to me?”

“To be fair, I guess it was mainly because of the stereotype about Hufflepuff house. But you’re the friendliest of all the Hufflepuff girls I know.”

“Okay. Thank you.” I said awkwardly. “Why only girls though?” I asked confused.

Roger looked at me for a second too long before correcting himself, “Doesn't have to be a girl, I only know girls in Hufflepuff house though.”

The corridor fell quiet.

“Do you wanna begin tomorrow then?” Roger asked.

Shaking the awkwardness off of me I regained my casual smile, “Sure! Should we say 5 p.m. in my common room?”

“Alright.” He said and began ascending the many stairs. I did not envy him as I walked the straight path toward my common room.

I mostly saw it as humorous, the idea of Roger picking me to be his tutor. But I guess it made sense, he knew me on a more personal level than the rest of the Hufflepuffs in our year, seeing as we had been fellow Quidditch players throughout our time at Hogwarts.

I would however subsequently have to face the fact that being a tutor entails actual tutoring, an unfamiliar activity in my repertoire.

* * *

We were approaching mid-November. The air had turned cheek bitingly cold but, disappointingly, there had been no snow as of yet. Instead we got heaps of rain. I swayed on my broom looking down at the pitch far beneath me; it had a dark greyish sort of green to it, instead of its usual forest green. An effect created by the gloomy sky in combination with the hazy rain. I looked down at the grass below me; the rain that hit me trickled down my face and fell to join it. In this particular instant, I wasn’t all that happy to be out here. Usually Quidditch was fun no matter the circumstances of the weather, but in this moment, and looking down at the usually forest green grass, I simply couldn’t remember the last time we had had a sunny practise. There is only so much rain one can take before one starts to long for being in the common room with a couple of friends playing exploding snap by the fireplace.

So that’s what we did when the session was over. PJ, Wright and I silently made our way up to the castle with hair dripping all over. We stopped by the Slytherins to pick up Graham and made our way to our common room where we could finally warm up.

“How’s the tutoring going, Willow?” Graham asked. He also, seemed amused by the concept of me being a tutor. “Come to think of it, I’ve been having trouble with arthimancy lately, think you could help out a fellow friend?” He joked. We sat down in the seating area around the seemingly ever-burning fireplace to wait for Bianca’s return from what we assumed was the library so that we could all inaugurate a friendly game of exploding snap.

I decided to ignore his joke and answer genuinely. “You know what? As it turns out, tutoring Roger isn’t all that demanding. I mostly just helped him out with his essay. We were basically just hanging out while getting some homework done along the way. And I could take care of my own work when he didn’t need as much help. I guess he mostly just wants someone to give him a nudge along the way; he’s pretty self-going. And we can also have a laugh as we go which is nice.”

Graham kept scanning the room while I spoke, so clearly disinterested in my ramblings that were evidently me contemplating out loud for my own benefit rather than for anyone else’s.

“Okay.” He said absentmindedly. “By the way, how come I never see you hanging out with the Hufflepuff boys in your year?” He turned to look at us all collectively as if he’d just uncovered a scandal we’d been trying to cover up.

“They’re all gay so there’s really no reason for us to.” Wright said casually while she magically made the deck of cards do a levitating shuffle.

Graham stared perplexedly at Wright whereas PJ and I simply watched the scene unfold in amusement. “So you’re saying that the sole reason you people ever hang out with boys is... to groom them or something? Is that what this is?” he gesticulated between us all.

“I’ll let you deduce that.” Wright said smugly, the point upon which we all couldn’t take it anymore and broke into a fit of laughter discounting Graham who up until then hadn’t understood that she was joking. He did as he commonly did in our presence: looked on with utter confusion.

“You can’t have seriously thought any of that would be true?” PJ asked. In Graham’s defence, I had to say that Wright had an aptitude to make _anything_ sound believable, even the most ridiculous of things.

“Well… I never see you together with them, for all I know, that could be the truth to it.”

PJ shrugged. “I honestly don’t know where this is coming from. Fine, we don’t hang out with them regularly, but we like them. They’re alright.”

“Griffith!” I exclaimed loudly. “Griffith is a right craic. I love him.” Griffith was our chaser, and a good one at that.

“He’s a bit too much of a craic sometimes don’t you think?” Wright and PJ shared a look. They both found that Peter Griffith and I would mock about a little too much on the field at times.

“Too much of a craic is always the right amount of craic for me.” I declared proudly with a smile, earning a roll or two of their eyes.

“Here comes Bianca finally!” PJ announced and everyone directed their attention toward the entrance where Bianca emerged with all her badger grace.

She skipped up to us with energy of which I envied greatly. “Heeey!” She cheered, while dragging the E. “My favourite Quidditch team! All gathered around the campfire to greet me! Also Graham. Hey Graham.” Graham waved quietly from his chair. She sat down. “So I met Oliver in the library. Said he’d heard you were tutoring Roger Davies. Good job on all that by the way.” She clapped my shoulder. “He wondered if I could tell you that he’s much interested in signing up for these renowned lessons in herbology.”

I have to say, I was speechless. She’d barely entered the room a minute ago and she already had everyone quiet with their attention in her hands.

“I don’t understand this!” I finally burst. I would laugh had this situation not been so befuddling. “I’m not even good at herbology! I only got an A on my O.W.L’s.! This is codswallop!” I flung my hands in the air like crazy.

“Well… You always finish your assignments in herbology on time. And you always pass them.” Graham tried.

I paused to look at him. “If that is the modern idea of what constitutes an adept herbology tutor, then I believe most of Hogwarts should have that in their syllabus.” I spat at him before realizing that I should probably calm down. I was acting as if something terrible had happened when in reality it wasn’t terrible but bizarre. “How did he find out, though?” I asked Bianca and she pouted her lip in deliberation.

“He probably spoke to Davies I’m guessing.” She said.

I paused for an unnatural amount of time. “Are they friends or something?” I asked.

“From one thing to another.” Wright muttered.

Bianca looked at everyone else in the room as if to see if they could signal in some way why I was asking. “They’re on quite good terms as I understand it.” She clarified hesitantly. “He’s Ravenclaws Quidditch captain.” She added as if that would make the occurrence of them being friends any more plausible to me.

“Exactly. He’s Ravenclaws Quidditch captain. So _why on earth_ would Oliver be friends with him given how he declared me his enemy within the first week of my captaincy! What’s wrong with him?” I was getting quite riled up by now.

“Did he really ‘declare you his enemy’ though, Will? Don’t you think that you simply misunderstood each other?” Wright argued.

Ignoring her I continued my interrogation. “What name did he use?” I asked and when Bianca only looked defeated back at me I clarified further. “Did he say Willow or Penderghast?”

Bianca threw her head back in what appeared to be some sort of mental anguish. “Not that again Willow. Why does it matter? He obviously wants to be your friend.”

It didn’t matter what she said; I was intransigent. I gave her a look that said I’m not backing down until you tell me, to which she sighed in response.

Bianca crossed her arms impatiently, but admitted, “He said Penderghast. Obviously.”

I leaned back in my chair, mouth in a straight line.

“Will, I know you have this desperate need to be everyone’s friend, but you can’t be on first name basis with every witch or wizard you meet. You just can’t.” PJ said delicately. I had to agree, the words hit home. For some reason I had always had this big need to be chummy with everyone. I think it stems from just never wanting to end up in that situation where all of your friends are gone for some reason and you are left alone. Still I ignored her as if she hadn’t said anything at all.

I turned to Bianca. “Tell him I don’t have time to tutor two students.”

She rolled her eyes. “Tell him yourself. He only gave me the message because I met him in the library and you guys were away on practise.”

“Why can’t you just tutor Wood along with Davies? They will both have the same assignments anyway. It’s not like he’s done anything to personally offend you.” PJ offered.

“Are you sure about that?” I said, piercing her eyes. “Besides, Roger genuinely wants my help, whereas Oliver probably has some ulterior motive. Like spying on me to get my plays.” I sunk lower into my chair and sulked a little.

PJ had had enough at this point. “Okay Willow. You are being ridiculous right now; can I just tell you that? Do you _honestly_ think Oliver seems like the kind of person who would do that? Has he really made that bad of an impression on you? Second of all, Roger Davies, no ulterior movies?” She paused to see if I would figure this one out by myself. I looked around to see everyone eyeing me expectantly.

“Willow, he’s sort of been flirting with you. Have you not noticed that?” Wright carefully asked.

My first instinctive reaction was to dismiss this right away. But then I had to stop myself to think about this. Had he been flirting? I honestly wasn’t sure. It would explain why he had asked me of all people. “Are you sure?” I finally settled on asking.

They all seemed to agree on this. They all nodded their heads and looked between each other, all but Graham who hadn’t been there to witness the supposed flirting.

I kept quiet for the remaining time that I spent in the common room. Not purposefully. I had to piece things together in my head and it distracted me from the social situation at hand. My friends kept eyeing me as I sat quiet and watched them play and it bothered me, so I left shortly to go up to my dormitory.

I grabbed a book from a drawer in my nightstand. I would always pack many books before leaving for Hogwarts, but I never ended up reading more than two or three. There always seemed to be something else going on, which was a good thing I guessed. I liked to keep busy. This year I had not had time to finish any book as of yet. So I made myself comfortable in my fourposter and read to keep my mind off things.

I felt saddened by the fact that Oliver, whom I had thought since we talked in the stone bridge tower, up until now, had the potential of becoming a friend of mine. It now seemed like he didn’t want to be my friend, seemed like he intentionally indicated that fact.

Furthermore I felt kind of embarrassed at my ignorance. Everyone seemed to labour under the impression that Roger had wanted me to tutor him for the sole purpose of… well, I don’t know exactly. However I was sure now that it was not because he believed I could teach him something, like I had thought. Which in itself was the reason for my embarrassment. I realise now that the thought of him, a brilliant student, coming to me for help had made me proud, despite how preposterous I had previously thought it. I couldn’t help but think it naïve of me to not have questioned the legitimacy of it, and I worried, as I recalled the look on my friends’ faces when they had told me, that they had thought it too.

Some time passed and somewhere along the way I managed to forget about my sad embarrassment in the flow of the pages of my book. That is until I heard footsteps coming up the staircase. I knew that I had been a mopey bore this evening and they would probably be annoyed at me for it. Acting quickly I chucked the book into my nightstand, turned my back toward the door, lay down and closed my eyes. The door opened and I wished that I had drawn the curtains around me. I did nothing but listen as the girls sauntered inside, listened to the lack of speech coming from them. Did they assume I was sleeping? The light was still on. Suddenly I felt very silly laying here pretending to sleep when I apparently wasn’t. I felt like a child.

Someone walked up to my bed. I decided to open my eyes. It was PJ and she didn’t look annoyed. She squatted down to the same level as me and leaned her hand for support on the frame of my bed and smiled warmly. “You’re a bit sad.” She said and cocked her head in pity.

I didn’t know what to reply with but before I’d thought of something she climbed onto my bed and over me to lie down beside me. I turned and caught sight of the rest of the gang who, as if on cue, all climbed into my bed as well. Like one can imagine, it really didn’t fit us all, but we made it work. We didn’t really say or do anything but lie there. It was nice though. It did the trick to cheer me up.

“Alright, this isn’t comfortable.” Wright said after a couple of minutes. She got up and left for her own bed. PJ soon followed but Bianca remained a little longer until all the lights were off in the dorm and even a little after that. She gave me a hug before she left and I fell asleep shortly after that with a smile despite everything.

* * *

**21 October 2018**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like/dislike anything about this chapter? Please let me know!


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

“Penderghast!” Oliver called from somewhere behind me. I gathered the entire cool I had in me before he caught up to my pace.

Knowing what this was about I figured I might as well set him straight right away. “Sorry Oliver, you can’t join. I don’t have the time to tutor both you and Roger.” I replied before he’d asked.

“Why are you tutoring him, anyway? I mean… you’re not friends… are you?” He looked at me searchingly while dodging oncoming students of the opposite direction.

“We _are_ friends. I like spending time with him. _He’s nice_.” I gave him a meaningful look. One of which he didn’t seem to realise meant anything. The more time I spent around Oliver the more I realised he had a frustrating way of never catching hints and communicative signals.

Oliver didn’t seem to agree with my view. “Really? Roger?”

I had to feed myself the cool I had gathered up before to stop me from cursing at him. “ _Roger_? _Really_?” I instead settled on uttering. _His first name you gladly use,_ I thought to myself. Oliver once again didn’t catch what I meant, as if he hadn’t been here to witness these past few months and our endless row.

“You have to agree with me that it’s suspicious.” Oliver said.

I knew immediately where he was going with this before he’d even said it out loud. “No Oliver, I don’t agree with you that it’s suspicious. And frankly I find it insulting that you do. If I was spying on one Quidditch captain, why would I decline that another joins?” I gestured at him. “Furthermore, I find it degrading that you would suggest such an idea. I don’t see you going around _doubting_ your other fellow captains!” We had both stopped in our tracks. The hall had cleared up which was a good thing because my voice had gone distinctly louder.

“None of my other fellow captains are _fraternizing_ for no apparent reason!” Oliver too had gotten riled up by now.

I took a deep breath and stared at him. “ _You’re_ friends with Roger _as well_!” I half shouted. Why I even bothered with a deep breath is beyond me.

“I’ve been friends with him for a long time, I didn’t a couple of months before our match suddenly decide to befriend him!” I found it odd to see Oliver get this riled up; he usually kept his cool during our arguments, seemed indifferent even. Not this time however.

“I didn’t _decide_ to befriend him, _he asked me_ for help! So I did the _nice_ thing and provided him with that help. I don’t see why you’re antagonizing me when there is in fact more evidence to suggest that he’s the one spying!” I paused and looked at him with contempt. “You really don’t have a lot of faith in me as a captain, do you?” And with that said, I stormed off, happy to find he didn’t follow. Instead he shouted after me:

“I think you’re a great chaser and I believe you have a lot of potential as a captain of your team.”

 _Where did that come from?_ I thought. “Then why all this doubt?” I turned and shouted back. He didn’t seem sure of how to reply. I stopped a couple meters ahead of him and waited.

“I just don’t see why you would want to hang out with _him_.”

“I don’t see why you suddenly detest him. He’s your friend.” I said and turned around and left.

* * *

As I walked the lone corridors later that night, I began to feel on edge. I didn’t usually feel this way while roaming the castle, in the way most people probably would. Abandoned stone corridors, an enormous castle. It was intimidating. I kept glancing backward to see if anyone was following me, an irrational thought. I tried not to think about it. I tried to think about how irrational this all was and that I should instead be worrying about Mr. Filch catching me, or something.

I wasn’t even sure what floor I was on. But it didn’t matter, that’s what I was striving for, I wanted to be lost for some reason. I pondered if other students usually do this when they can’t sleep.

I surely felt lost. I looked around and tried to orient myself as to where I was. But I simply couldn’t, it was as if I was in a part of the castle I had never been before. Of course I had heard rumours about this sort of thing. It was a common saying about Hogwarts. You never know what you’ll find as you roam. Some people claim they’ve been to every bit of the castle. But a fair few, and I include myself in that statement; hold the belief that no one really knows just how big Hogwarts really is, and I don’t think anyone can know. You think you know. You take the same paths you always do when getting to your classes. But then, when you mindlessly roam, you suddenly find yourself lost; at a place you’re sure you’ve never been.

After a long while of walking without spotting anything but stone bricks. There was suddenly a wooden door. I got excited and rushed up to it. I tried to open the heavy door. It seemed stuck, but I kept pushing and finally got it open.

Upon entering the room I was sort of disappointed at first glance. There was barely anything in there. Just the same heavy stone brick walls. I had expected something more. But the more I took in of it, the more I saw that it was actually quite a beautiful room. It didn’t have any form of artificial lighting, but I think it turned out to be a service as the room had many beautiful big windows instead. They were of stained glass and at first glance they looked like they were randomly tinted in all sorts of colours. But then as I widened my focus and took in all the windows as a whole, I could see that all the windows made an image when joined. The image was of Hogwarts itself, but it was from the Black Lake’s perspective and the castle, while not being the centre of the image, towered above it.

The image brought me back to when I had been a first year student, on the first of many days I would spend here. We all travelled by boats on the lake from the platform to the castle. The memory seemed distant from me now as I was in the middle of my last year. Right there, right then, I was overwhelmed with emotion at that fact. I don’t know why exactly, but I didn’t cry, I just stared at the image, my face felt frozen, every muscle tensed.

I eventually had to snap myself out of it. I felt like I wanted to stay here forever, examining the picture. But reality awaited.

I approached the window and stared out. It was hard to see anything as the glass was stained in dark shades. But I could still see the castle unravelling itself beneath me. I was quite far up I noticed. I could see quite a few towers pointing at me from underneath. I had no clue what any of them where. I instead imagined they were specific places that I had specific memories of. I imagined one tower to be the divination stairwell where Wright, PJ and I had all comforted Bianca as she was sitting there crying after a Slytherin boy had called her an attention seeker because she had been talking a lot during class. It was back in first year when we hadn’t become friends with Bianca yet. Wright, PJ and I had all become friends immediately through our appreciation for Quidditch. This was the day we had first become friends with Bianca. We had told her she should never shut up during class. Never to submit to the boys’ desire to have all girls be shy so that they can have all the attention and glory. Never to let a boy tell her what she can and cannot do. I wondered what Bianca would have been like now if we hadn’t become friends.

I imagined one tower as the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom where I had disarmed my first opponent in third year. I don’t even remember who it was, just the joy I had felt. I wasn’t nearly the first one in my class to be able to do it. I was just so happy I hadn’t been the last. I had written home that day. Telling my family about it. But I had to do it in secret, as I didn’t want anyone to know that I wrote home about that sort of thing. I recalled that we all had a different relationship with writing home back then. It was one of those things that were uncool. We all thought it made us seem weak, missing family. Thinking back, it seemed so silly now. Of course we all missed our parents. We still did sometimes, but not as much. I found it more common to miss Hogwarts nowadays.

I stood there quietly, studying the grounds of Hogwarts. The harsh wind vibrated against the windows. The room felt spooky. It was old and disregarded in an eerie way.

A rumble awoke me from my trans like state. Someone was trying to get the door open. My heart started beating, I had no time to think and I immediately looked for a place to hide, but there was none. A head poked inside and looked at me as I stood frozen. My heart relaxed as I saw that it was Oliver Wood. _Obviously_. I don’t know why I expected anyone else at this point.

“Wood.” I greeted him. Folding my arms.

He whispered something and pointed his wand at a piece of parchment. He stepped inside. “We’re using my surname now are we?”

I ignored his question. “What is that?” I said and pointed at the parchment in his hand. But he didn’t hear me as he had begun to take in the room.

“What is this place?” He asked mesmerized. He looked around the room in awe, I envied the look on his face and also stepped back a bit to where he was standing so that I could take in the image the windows created once again. The moonlight was shining on the window creating a light that lit up the floor and Oliver with blotches of light in different colours. “I’ve never been here before, is there usually a room here?” He whispered, not taking his eyes of the image.

“Not sure.” I replied absentmindedly, tracing the glass up and down, taking in every small detail of it, as I knew that I would probably never find this place again upon leaving.

“I’m sorry.” Said Oliver, he was looking at me, but I didn’t look back. I kept tracing the glass with my eyes.

“What do you mean by that?” I finally asked.

He seemed confused by the question. “What?” he asked.

I refused to look at him. “What do you mean when you say you’re sorry?”

He paused to think. “It means that it makes me sad to see that you are upset by something.” He said cautiously.

Suddenly I got a bit emotional again, thinking about all the stress I’d been feeling, stress about Quidditch and enemies and wrongly imagined platonic intentions and grades and the staggering notion that everyday that passes is another day less that will pass at this wonderful place.

“It makes me feel sad too.” I said. In an impulse decision I decided to sit down on the floor. Oliver followed my lead and sat down next to me.

Oliver’s tone took on a hint of optimism then, “I figured it out though.”

I spared him a fleeting glance, a suspicious one at that. “Figured out what exactly?”

“Why you’re clearly upset with me.” He said confidently.

“I have to say I’m impressed you even figured out that much.”

Oliver continued in a hurry to get the words out, “Well of course you are, upset with me I mean,” he gestured with his hands like he had just discovered the cure for vanishing sickness, “you use my surname, you’ve been ignoring me lately, those are signs that you are upset, right?”

I looked blankly at him, startled by his intensity.

“Anyway,” he continued, “it’s because you think I don’t think that you’re a great Quidditch captain. But you’ve got it all wrong. When I said all that about how you’re using Roger, that wasn’t me saying you’re a bad Quidditch player, I think you’re a great Quidditch player! Roger thinks so too!” He stopped short. “Although, if you ask me Roger doesn’t see the star in you that I see.”

He looked intently at me. “It was just out of concern for my team that I expressed the distrust. A concern, which I now realise was wrong.” His intensity died down a bit. “I was off. I’m sorry.”

I smiled. “That’s not it. Although I’m impressed you were able to guess so close.”

His head fell. “Really? I thought I had it…”

I pitied him, he sounded so disappointed. I watched him bury his face in his hands before abruptly looking up at me again, “It’s just I’ve been at this so hard, but I can’t seem to understand what I’m doing wrong. This is so frustrating!” He clenched his fists. He had that same competitive Quidditch look in his eyes he always wore when he went on about Quidditch.

I smiled wider. I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by how cute I found him in that moment. So desperately trying to figure something out that was so obvious to me. Finally I knew that had been in the wrong, as it turned out he did seem to care about me.

“And now you’re smiling! I thought you were angry! This is so hard to figure out!” He uttered in desperation.

I started laughing slightly then and smiled widely at him. He looked so cute and confused. And so I kissed him. Only because right in that moment, that late at night, when I was that lost, I really wanted to.

To my surprise, Oliver seized this opportunity without hesitation. Without leaving my lips, he changed the way he sat so to reach better. He pressed his lips harder against mine.

A moment passed until I subtracted my lips slowly, remaining close to his face.

“I enjoy sitting on the floors of hidden Hogwarts rooms with you.” He mumbled with his eyes closed. He was completely still.

I looked down at the floor so that our foreheads pressed against each other. I then decided that I needed to let some things off my chest. I spoke in a soft tone. “I’m just tired of this. First of all, don’t you hear how ridiculous it sounds? Don’t you hear how ridiculous the idea that I would spy on another captain is? Have you met me? This is exactly the thing Oliver; it’s what you’ve been doing right from the beginning. While I’ve been civil to you, you’ve constantly antagonized me for these ridiculous reasons that don’t seem to have any ground. It makes me think that you, for some odd reason, want me to be some enemy of yours and I can’t seem to grasp _why_.”

I let go of his forehead. I needed to look him in the eyes for the next part.

“You’re so up and down. Last week in the library I thought ‘Oh! Maybe he’s changed his mind and decided to act like a decent guy!’ but then you suddenly went back to your stupid antagonizing of me and I’m sick of it. So, I decided I wasn’t going to bother with you anymore. I mean, you can’t honestly believe that you can, time after time, treat me this way without me inevitably getting upset about it?” I then realised I had been talking for quite some time and I was surprised to find that he had let me speak all the way through. I had expected him to interrupt me to try and defend himself.

Oliver seemed to be pondering. What was obvious to me appeared like genuine news to him. “I guess you’re right. I guess I have been acting peculiarly.” He played with the hem of his robe. “I don’t know why though.” He said and looked up at me, seemingly wanting me to explain it. However I was as clueless as him.

“And also,” I seemed to have more to say, “quit acting like you’re the one who decides who’s a good Quidditch player or not. I know I’m good, I know I have a great team of players and I don’t need you to validate that for me.” I laughed humorlessly, “And I won’t go around being upset because of the belief that you might not agree. Maybe _I’m_ the one who decides who is a great Quidditch player? And I, Willow Penderghast, am here to declare that Oliver Wood, is quite a fair one himself.” He smiled at that, and I returned it.

Oliver folded his legs above each other and placed his elbows on his knees, creating a link between them and his connected hands. He put his chin down to rest on his hands. “Here’s what I think. I think that you, _Willow_ , are selling me short. You know what I think, _Willow_? I think that, while I do apologize for being a blithering idiot, I can be better in the future, after all I did realise that you, _Willow_ , were upset with me.”

I raised my eyebrows, although I couldn’t hide my smile, I had finally got what I wanted. “You were way off about why though.”

“But I was right about you being upset and tried to make it right, which is the important thing in my opinion.” He gave me a grin.

I don’t know why I had kissed him. He had just seemed so kissable. It was like my mind had deliberated the matter and reasoned like this: basically, I can’t not kiss him when he’s acting this way and noticing things — and so I must kiss him. My standards have never been lower.

_How did it all escalate this way? How did we go from fighting about Quidditch practises and surnames to me kissing him? I should probably pretend that it never happened. I mean he would never kiss me on his own accord. So why should I?_

* * *

  **26 October 2018**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like/dislike anything about this chapter? Please let me know!


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

My friends had to wake me the next morning, an unusual occurrence although much needed on this particular morning.

“What’s going on Willow?” They asked, more correctly, _someone_ asked — I was tired. “Didn’t get much sleep?” The person asking actually seemed slightly concerned and I figured that it must be PJ. I made a sound and turned around. “Okay, but Will, it’s Saturday, I think you’re going to want to get yourself out of bed and down to breakfast.”

When I didn’t answer, someone else pushed on, “To the _game_ , Willow.” It was definitely Bianca this time.

I snuggled my head into my pillow for a bit, then sat up finally. “Right… that’s today.” I recalled the events of last night and felt bad for Oliver who had to play an important game with approximately the same amount of sleep as I. I got up and put on some shoes. I first didn’t bother to change or have a look in the mirror but then the others convinced me that warmer clothes were a good idea as it was probably going to be quite windy on top of the Quidditch panels.

We had our breakfast. I didn’t have much. I had decided upon waking up that today was one of those days when I would not take care of myself. I didn’t want this day to be remembered. I wanted it to be buried in the sand among all the other uneventful days.

We discussed with our fellow housemates which team we all thought would win and how we thought the match was going to go down, some even made bets. No duels erupted during breakfast, which was a good sign.

We were on our way down to the field when Oliver approached us in the corridor. Initially I smiled at him widely and he smiled back just as wide. I then had to remind myself that I had kissed him yesterday, and I didn’t want him to think I liked him. So I proceeded to force the smile down again.

He was wearing his Quidditch gear and looked pompous as he came closer. He also looked happy though. He didn’t seem worried or nervous but was smiling as widely as I had a moment ago. “Hi, Willow.” He said.

“Um, hi Oliver.” I said.

“Wow!” Bianca erupted. “You got him to say your name, Willow!” Bianca crossed her arms with a smile on her face and looked at me for a reaction. I knew she was doing this maybe half out of interest and half because she knew it would make me embarrassed.

“Yeah Will, how’d you manage that?” Wright asked. They all congratulated me, they hit me on my back to somehow communicate that I had done a good job. I looked anywhere but at Oliver as they did this.

“Anyway. Have you placed any bets on who you think will win?” Oliver looked at me intently, still with that smile on his lips and also with a hint of curiosity.

“I don’t like to pretend that I am some all-knowing force who has the faintest idea of the turn outs of a game that hasn’t even taken place yet. Despite knowing which teams are playing, there are way too many factors involved in the outcome, for me to feel arrogant enough that I would have a change in a mere game of guesses. I’m not a seer.” I realised that I was rambling, it was too late to retract it all though.

Oliver looked surprised at my outspokenness. “Yeah, but… I mean you must have some idea of who you think will win?” He searched my face. “I mean, personally, I think the conditions are pretty clear. It’s quite obvious who’s going to win.” He paused for a moment. “Aaand, you did say that you thought I was a great Quidditch player. I mean what could go wrong?” He smiled shyly at me while moving his hand through his hair. A smile spread over my face at how shy but cocky he was acting all at once. But I quickly retracted it.

“Yes. Well.” I stammered and stared at the floor. I couldn’t look at him out of fear I might start smiling like that again and he’ll think I’m all swoony about him. “I… think a lot of Quidditch players are good. Some Quidditch players on the Slytherin team are, in my opinion, quite talented as well, if not as… talented.” I glanced at him and he was looking at me as intently as before but more on the quizzical side. “Anyhow, I think we,” I took a quick glance at the group, “should get going. Good luck!” I said with fake enthusiasm. “You’ll be great, I know it.”

“So that was odd.” Wright announced casually once Oliver was out of earshot.

“What was odd?” I asked once I realised I wouldn’t be able to get out of this conversation.

“You were odd when talking to Oliver.” She continued.

“Yeah, well, he’s an… _odd egg.”_

“That may be true. But in this instance, he was nice. _You_ , on the other hand, were the odd egg.” She gave me a knowing look.

“Yeah well, I’m not used to him being nice.” I mumbled.

“So when he’s all of a sudden nice, you’re all of a sudden a complete tosser?” She hit me lightly on the head as we all stumbled through the corridor, trying to keep close to each other in the sea of students, all making their way down to the pitch.

“I was not!” I argued.

“Why couldn’t you have just said you wanted him to win, that you were hoping for his team to win?” Bianca asked humorously. “But you had to talk about how ‘no one can truly know, it’s all up to the universe to decide’.” She mimicked me but with a dazed voice while making strange hand gestures.

“Don’t make me sound like Trelawney. Didn’t you hear me? I said I’m _not_ a seer.”

“Yeah well, Trelawney is not a seer either so I guess you’re not all that different.” PJ chimed in passive aggressively.

I sighed loudly for them all to register my annoyance. “Come on guys. Graham is on the other team, what was I supposed to say? ‘I hope your team beats the crap out of my friend’s team.’”

“You know there is such a thing as simply lying for the benefit of making someone happy. He clearly wants you to root for him.” Wright said.

Wright’s words stuck to my brain for the remainder of the walk down toward the field.

* * *

Much like I had not predicted, as it is once again, impossible for me to know, Gryffindor won. But more importantly, Graham’s team lost. Which meant that tonight would not be a celebration but instead what could be compared to a funeral-like event, taking place in the Slytherin common room where I would have to comfort Graham for half of the evening, and make him feel happy for the other half.

I was sort of looking forward to spending time with Graham without the rest of my friends. Not that I minded us all hanging out as a group, it was more that we had deeper conversations, him and I alone. Which was nice for certain occasions.

Oliver had invited me to the Gryffindor celebrations, taking place also tonight obviously. I had congratulated him on his win. It had been a very professional like congratulation.

_Had I shaken his hand? I hope not._

His hair had been all of that which it usually is but even better and his Quidditch gear had been on and he’d had those red markings from the glasses around his eyes and he’d said with his most Scottish accent, “You know there’s going to be a celebration in Gryffindor common room tonight. Are you going to be there?” Which I wasn't sure was an invitation but decided to file it as such in lack of a broader filing system.

But for obvious reasons, I had to decline since I had more important matters to attend to that night. Also right in that second I had spotted Graham sulkily making his way toward the showers.

I tiredly walked the staircase up toward my common room. My friends were with the Gryffindor team discussing the game. Whereas I had gone to Graham and sat with him for a while before he got into the shower. He had seemed surprisingly okay. Supposedly he had only felt shit before the game because of nerves and now that it was over he only felt relieved he hadn’t screwed up too badly. He had done a really good job, which I had told him many times back at the pitch and would probably keep telling him for the remainder of the evening. But right now I really wanted a shower. I was alone in our dorm room, a rarity. I dressed down to only underwear and sat down on my bed to take in the peace for a while. It was kind of nice being by myself for a while.

I finally broke the spell of peace and turned on the shower and stepped in. Cleaning myself up felt really good after the rugged morning I had had.

Dinner rolled around eventually. I had managed to take a nap, which only made me more tired and I was now very much looking forward to whatever was being served that evening, hoping it would bring me some energy.

“You really don’t know how to slow down, do you?” Asked Graham. He was eating with my friends and I at the Hufflepuff table.

I first wasn’t sure what he was referring to, but then it dawned on me that I had basically been throwing food down my throat. I put down my cutlery in embarrassment.

Graham laughed at my embarrassment. “It’s okay. It’s just funny is all.” He leaned his head on my shoulder briefly and put his hand around my shoulder. I laughed back.

“It’s nice to see that my lack of table manners can bring a smile to your face in dark times like these.” I grinned at him. Graham wasn’t all that upset about losing, but someone had made a comment about him being embarrassed to sit with his house after the loss, which had made him upset.

“And they’re only going to get darker.” He took a giant swig of pumpkin juice. “I’m just not looking forward to Flint’s speech tonight.” He cringed at the thought.

“You should join us at the Gryffindor thing, Flint can throw himself in the lake.” Wright said.

Graham didn’t look too sure. “I don’t know. I don’t want to be called out as a house traitor any more than I already have.” He looked sadly as his cup.

“Hey! That’s okay. You can always join us at the Hufflepuff party after we beat Gryffindor in a few weeks.” I said encouragingly.

“I do love a good Hufflepuff party.” He gave me a small smile.

* * *

I knocked on the hard wooden door that lead to the Slytherin common room, hoping that someone would open soon so that I could leave this deserted hallway that reminded me of how far beneath the ground I was. I had passed so many passages on the way here that I had never explored before, it felt intriguing and frightening at the same time. Who knows what they keep down here?

My thoughts were interrupted when a fine gentleman finally opened the door for me.

“Looking for Graham?” He asked me while leaning against the door. I didn’t even know his name yet he was among an array of people who would sometimes open the door for me and direct me to my friend. Nowadays they always knew who I was looking for right away.

“Yes please.” I answered sweetly.

He gave me a polite smile and pointed toward a group of people seated by a window far into the room.

With a quick thank you I quickly made my way toward the group. I didn’t want to be roaming around too long without the company of Graham. Most people I had encountered in here were nice. But there were a fair few, Flint and his friends for example, who liked causing scenes, and I was not in need of the attention right now. It was also the fact that not many people of other houses set their feet in here, which meant that when one does, one gets a few stares from people, and again, I wasn’t in any need of attention.

I collapsed into one of the loungers next to Graham. I had spotted his head from behind. “Heeey!” I greeted Graham and his two friends and laid my hand on top of Graham’s head in an invasive manner. He shook it off.

“Hello Willow.” Graham’s friends smugly greeted me back and they all threw glances at Graham. I was on quite good terms with Graham’s mates although I couldn’t see what all the smugness was about, but explained it off as a conversation I hadn’t been part of.

“What’s up?” I asked, trying to make small talk, but they both seemed to be getting ready to leave.

“We were just about to leave you guys alone.” One of them who I knew was called Quentin said. He had that knowing look, like he was doing Graham a favour. I knew what it was about. They all had some twisted idea that Graham and I were in love. I can’t really blame them as I believe some of my friends had the same idea although were typically a little less outward about it.

“No stay! Why do you have to leave?” I said desperately. They stopped in their tracks and appeared uncertain of what to do.

Graham looked at me dumbfounded. “What’s your angle?” He asked in that up-front way only he could.

“I don’t have an angle except these guys seem to think that you and I can only hang out in pairs, which we know isn’t true.” I dug my stare into Graham, ordering him to agree. My wish was granted and Graham agreed. His friends awkwardly sat down.

The only thing I previously knew about them was that the whole bunch of them were know-it-all’s, something Graham was, thankfully, less of a. I suspected it was a defence mechanism for lack of popularity and general awkwardness. Out of those two I could only identify with the first. But they seemed like good people, and odd people at that. The other one, Edwin, he was called, would always wear a flat cap and a pocket watch, which I loved and was partly the reason I had wanted them to sit down.

“So…” Quentin began. Over the years I had gotten to know him as the most confident of the three. “What’s up with you and the Gyffindor captain?”

“Uh, nothing’s up with us.” I replied, snorting. Graham sighed at his friend’s lack of tact.

“You sure about that?” He looked suspiciously at me. “I’ve seen you speaking to him on several occasions. Are you sure there’s nothing going on there? Because if there is, then maybe you should consider your actions carefully, as you don’t want to _lead anyone on_.”

Graham sat up straighter and said, “Even though I fully believe that you’re trying your best Quentin, you should know that you are really not being very delicate here.” But Quentin, who kept his eyes glued on me, awaiting a reply, ignored him.

I awkwardly retrieved my arm from where it was located around Graham’s shoulders. But I then realised that he was being incredibly stupid.

“First of all, I don’t see why you assume that just because I’m having conversations with someone of the opposite gender, that I would have to be attracted to them. Second of all, Graham is not in love with me!” I declared profoundly.

I seemed to have caught them of guard. Quentin switched in his seat. Edwin slowly took his hat off and placed it on the coffee table between us.

Once the hat was properly placed I leaned forward and said the magic words, “Now, who’s into Quidditch here?” Their eyes lit up and I smiled, knowing I’d hit the target. “Who wants to discuss the match?”

“Thank you.” Graham whispered in my ear and I smiled brightly.

The tension relaxed as we went through the events of the game we had all witnessed hours before and I got an opportunity to show off with my knowledge of the sport. Graham actually seemed happy that I had made his friends stay after all. His friends didn’t seem to mind having stayed either.

A long while later, a voice came from behind me. “Penderghast.” It said. I initially thought that it was Oliver, which didn’t make sense. But upon turning around I saw that the voice belonged to Marcus Flint.

I cursed myself. If I had only left five minutes ago like I had planned I wouldn’t have had to deal with this.

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked with fake cheeriness.

“What’s going on with you and Wood?” He asked coolly.

This felt like a wake up call. Had I really been talking to Oliver that much? Everyone seemed to have noticed. Then again we did keep yelling at each other in the hallway. It’s bound to make people notice at some point.

I wanted to tell him that it was none of his business, but it was met with a conflictive need to explain, I didn’t want him to get any ideas. “We’ve just been having an argument, that’s all.” I couldn’t help but visibly show annoyance at him when I talked. “But I think that’s over now.” I added, more to myself than anyone else.

“Are you’s shagging?” He asked and I heard Graham cough beside me.

“You’re an asshole Flint!” I spontaneously spat. “No we are not and it’s none of your goddamn business!” I couldn’t help but notice how distinctly more British my accent turned when I was specifically fired up. The worst part, and what made me so angry, was that he had seemed genuinely curious and like he was not _just_ trying to agitate me.

“So yes? You’re shagging?” He crossed his arms and smiled smugly at me only to leave without a reply.

I turned around and faced the others, I was speechless but then I saw that Graham was sort of giggling at something. My eyes shifted between his friends and him for a clue as to what he was finding humorous in this situation. “What?” I demanded when I couldn’t find one.

He was trying to hide his expression of amusement, holding a hand up to cover his mouth. “I’m sorry!” He said. “It’s just, a little humorous, the way he made you snap like that. You usually don’t snap at people, not even Flint. Except for Wood, he quickly corrected himself, you always snap at Wood.” He shared a look with his friends. “Or if it’s about you two shagging apparently.” He snorted and covered his mouth once again.

* * *

 **28 October 2018**  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like/dislike anything about this chapter? Please let me know!


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

The week before the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff match went down slightly differently. Oliver did what he usually does, trapping his players in corners and assailing them with speeches combined with late, early and I don’t know what practises.

Me on the other hand, I had decided with my friends that we were going to have a lot of practises during the weeks before the game, and on the last week we were going to slow down and only do two, hopefully this would help the team feel less stressed and worn-out. It also meant that I had less of a chance of bumping into Oliver on the pitch. Because bumping into someone who you’re avoiding out of sheer awkwardness can be seen as counterproductive, at least in my book.

I wasn’t sure about this approach, but it seemed more efficient than what Oliver was currently doing. He wasn’t just wearing his team out but also himself. I would often see him just staring at his plate of food in the Great Hall or being fast asleep in classes. Whenever he tried talking to me, I could see that his eyes were red from sleep deprivation. But we didn’t get to talk much, hence me trying to appear like I wasn’t interested in him and therefore keeping conversations brief.

“I don’t get it.” PJ had said. “You seemed determined for you two to be friends. Now every time he talks to you, you appear to want to run in the opposite direction.”

Listening to their constant confusion was frustrating. I wished I could explain to them about the kiss, I’m sure they would understand if I told them. But I wasn’t the type of person who talked to anyone about that sort of stuff.

“It’s sad is all, he’s different now. He’s nice to you. ‘Doesn’t seem to think you’re plotting murder or anything, which is a big development.” Bianca joked.

Since I wasn’t going to spend much time at the pitch I figured that it might be a good idea to spend that time in the library instead, and so I did.

It was when I was sitting peacefully in the library with my books trying to get all my papers finished that Oliver slouched down next to me.

“Mind if I sit here?” He asked when he saw that I was eyeing him from behind my stack of books.

“No, it’s not a problem.” I dug my nose back into my book.

He carelessly threw his books up on the table. He then proceeded to try and organize his surroundings by clumsily trying to sort out all of his parchment and dropping his pen on the floor several times in the process. After a while everything stilled from his side of the table and we sat quiet for a few moments.

“If we win on Saturday, and I’m not saying that we will.” He quickly added. “Would you still come and celebrate with us after?” He broke the silence by saying.

I hesitated before I laid my book down and reluctantly met his tired gaze. He looked drowsy and he was lying down on his closed book with crossed arms. “I’m not sure, actually. My team and I would probably be pretty bummed about losing.”

“Yes, of course...” He kept quiet for a while and I was just about to pick up my book again when he said, “I would have come to yours.”

“Would you though?” I doubted.

“Yes!” He sounded convinced. “I would be devastated. In fact, I would probably cry even. But I would still come, as the good sport that I am.” He looked me dead in the eyes. “In my humble opinion.” He added and smiled widely.

I tried not to smile back. “Hm, okay.” I answered. “I believe you.” I said and returned to my book, hoping this would cover the potential smile playing at my lips.

“I would’ve thought you’d would do the same.” He continued.

I sighed. “What exactly is it that you want, Oliver?”

He kept smiling. “I think you should do the same for me.”

“ _For_ you?”

“Yes _for_ me. I’m over here saying that I would set aside our rivalry and still come and celebrate your hypothetical win, why wouldn’t you do the same for me? That’s not very Hufflepuff of you.” He pointed at the table with his full hand as he said this, passionately making his point in his most team captain manner.

“So you want me to say I’ll come to your party on Saturday, _if_ you win?” I inquired confused.

“I think we should make a deal. A deal that when one of us loses, that person should still come to the party, to clear the air. No hard feelings.” He declared determined.

“Fine, I can do that, no problem.” I stated confidently.

He swiftly slid over to where I was sitting and extended his hand. “Deal?” He asked, looking me intently in the eyes. I wondered then, if this was some sort of a challenge to see if I really was the civil opponent I had made myself out to be.

I was a little startled by his sudden close proximity. But I shook his hand and flashed him a polite smile nonetheless. “Alright, good thing we got that out of the way. Now I’m heading back to my dorm.” I stood up, packed my books into my backpack and made a quick exit, leaving a confused Oliver.

I hurried down to the crowded common room and made myself comfortable in one of the sofas in the middle of the room. I figured that this might be a more of an unobtrusive environment for me to study in, without Oliver distracting me with his deals and handshakes. But as it turns out I was probably better of in the silent library.

I tried to get as much as possible done anyway. Soon enough I got lost in my work and the room fell quiet. After a long while when I sat up straight and stretched I realised that I was completely alone. It took me a while to figure out why not a single person was in there with me, but when I got around to having a look at the time it all became clear. It was way over dinnertime and everyone would be in the Great Hall by now. I decided that there was no point going down there as it would close soon, so I engrossed myself back in A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration. I sat like that, thinking this had always been me, spending twice as much time studying, but getting half as good grades as my friends. I then heard someone entering the common room, so I looked up only to see Oliver, once again un-expectantly appearing before me.

He just stood there awkwardly for a moment, looking at me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him, and it came out sounding more frustrated than I had intended. It was just too hard being around him. Trying not to smile at him in that vulnerable way, trying to seem disinterested, trying not to look at his hair or eyes or mouth. And here he was and I feared I would be doing all of those things in a matter of seconds.

“Did you know that your door doesn’t have a lock?” He asked randomly. He actually sounded quite agitated himself.

“It does. You just tap the rhythm.”

“’Just tap the rhythm.’” He imitated with a roll of his eyes. “I meant a _real_ lock.”

I was a little taken aback with his sudden sass. “How is that different from a password?” I asked.

“It’s not so much the password, if you want to call it that, I guess, and more the fact of how I got hold of it. I’ve never been here before you see. And so I thought, how can I get in there? But as my luck would have it, Cedric happened to walk past me, and I thought it a shot in the dark, but I asked him for it.” He paused for dramatic effect. “And he sodding just went ahead and gave it to me!” His eyes were wide with frustration. “Not even a ‘why do you ask?’” He sighed. “Without a moment's hesitation!”

“So what?” I asked, finding it hard to believe he could be this upset by something like that.

Oliver looked genuinely baffled at this point. He threw his arms up and down again in utter frustration. “Well, what if I sodding went in here and sodding stole all your stuff?” He almost shouted.

I couldn’t help but laugh at his absurdness. “Yeah but why would you do that, Oliver? You’re not making sense. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

“Nothing’s a big deal to you it seems!”

My eyebrows flew up. I felt like there was subtext to what he was saying now, but I couldn’t catch what it was. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked suspiciously.

“What I mean is, how can you be this _aloof_ about _everything_? For once in your life will you have some _sense_?”

I had remained calm throughout this conversation so far, but there was only so much of Oliver that I could take until inevitable anger would arise in me. It was doomed to happen. “Well, you are too damned _uptight_ about everything! You just walk around, heckling your own team about practises to the point where they hate you!”

“My team does not hate me!”

“I sure know I would.” I mumbled without thinking.

“What?!” Oliver’s eyes turned dark at that point but I didn’t care, I had tried so hard not to have to see him and he made it so damn difficult.

“I said I would hate you! It’s impossible not to really, with your early practises and your ‘talk’ after every practise and you just simply _have_ to have it or the world will inevitably crumble and how you always make everything into a competition and just LOOK AT YOU, can’t you dress right, ever? Why do you always have to walk around like that with your cloak hanging off your shoulder? Bloody tidy up for once in your life!”

He looked at me, puzzled. “You’re so weird.” He stated, calmer now but still mildly annoyed.

“You’re so frustrating!” I retorted. He’d gotten closer I realised, or maybe I’d gotten closer to him? There was an unexpected calm over us where we just stared at each other.

“Willow.” He said. I didn’t reply out of confusion as to what just happened. He was walking closer and closer to me. He looked determined. During the first second I started to wonder why, in the next I wondered if he was going to kiss me, and in the third and final second, when he did, I was astonished to find that I was prepared for it. He sunk his lips into mine and I kissed him back vigorously. There was an itch that has not been scratched for the last few weeks, and I finally realised that this was that itch. And it felt wondrous to scratch it.

We were both kind of inexperienced an clumsy in our kissing, but it felt special. Like nothing else. I wanted to do it more.

Oliver stepped closer and closer to the edge of the couch behind me until my legs were pressed against the armrest. With one last push I fell back and landed on the couch. _Thank god that was there,_ I thought, but then realised that it was probably his intent from the beginning.

He got on the couch as well and was leaning over me. He looked happily down on me and I finally allowed myself to smile back at him. His hands were on either side of me and he leaned down to continue our adventure.

“You’re so great.” He mumbled between kisses and I got this strange feeling in the bottom of my stomach, a good feeling.

“I love your untidiness.” I mumbled back. “You’re so cute when you lean on things.” I said as my hands ran through his hair, I was hoping that it would look extra Oliver-unruly when we were finished.

He kept mumbling absentmindedly. “You’re hot when you’re angry.” His hands were on either side of me, leaned against the couch cushions.

“I want to listen to your talk.” I said but regretted it when it caused his lips to leave mine.

He looked at me and said, “You can’t. It’s classified.” He leaned down and gave me a close-mouthed kiss.

“Then you can’t be in on our Hufflepuff routines.” I retorted.

We had completely stopped kissing each other by now and he was just staring at me disbelievingly with raised eyebrows. “What routines do you guys have?”

“Shut up.” I said breathlessly and leaned upwards toward him and kissed him again. I pulled him down onto me and he breathed heavily, seemingly having forgotten about anything we just said. “I want to play Quidditch with you in the middle of the night.” I continued as I was having a lot of fun with this routine of complementing each other.

“I love that your door doesn’t have a lock.” He said.

“It has a lock.”

After an awaited response he said, “I love that too.”

“I want to see you in a bowtie.” I whispered out of nowhere.

“Weird.” He breathed.

“Bowties are cool, you know.”

“I always know where you are when we’re in the same room, it’s embarrassing.” He said and I couldn’t help but smile against his mouth, knowing very well that someone else was having a similar experience, me. I kissed him deeper and let out a moan, which in return made him go wild. He moved down and kissed my neck. “I have a knack for finding you.” He whispered against my neck.

“Maybe you’ve got a bit of Hufflepuff in you.” I said with a tremble, thinking back to when he, much like now, appeared out of nowhere in a remote room somewhere even I couldn’t find if I wanted to. “Why did you come here by the way?”

He stopped kissing me and sat up. I cursed myself for making the warmth he had brought to my body go away. He looked startled, like he didn’t know what to say. I moved to sit upright as well and he took this as a cue to get off of me. He sat away from me, suddenly self-conscious, suddenly blatantly aware of our situation.

“I guess I just-“ He started saying before the door opened and my friends popped inside, interrupting him. I thanked Merlin they hadn’t walked in just a minute earlier. Oliver looked me deep in the eyes. Before my friends greeted us he quickly whispered, “I needed more.”

 _I hope my lips aren’t swollen_ was all that crossed my mind before all thoughts were interrupted by Bianca’s anything but dulcet tones.

“We brought food for you!” She trilled and barely started skipping toward me before she spotted Oliver. “How did you get in here?” They all looked confusedly at Oliver and I as they approached us.

“Did you let him in, Will?” PJ asked.

“Doesn’t seem like a thing she would do.” Bianca snorted.

“Oh come off it.” Oliver said. “It’s not exactly the department of mysteries down here, is it? You’ve barely got a password!”

They all stared at Oliver, probably wondering what gave him air.

“So you’ve settled on barely now, have you?” I asked with a smile that was probably wider than I’d care to admit.

“Wait, so did you or did you not let him in Will?” PJ asked.

“Why would she _not_ let me in?” Oliver demanded defensively.

“Because…” PJ tried.

“You’s don’t really get on do you?” Wright sang sweetly and slouched down in a chair.

I mostly stayed quiet. The only thing I could think about was whether my lips did or did not in fact appear swollen.

Oliver seemed quite upset by now though. “We do get along!”

I figured I should probably say something. “We get on plenty.” I said reassuringly.

“No we don’t!” Oliver burst quickly.

“Well that was a sudden change of heart.” Bianca said.

Oliver’s cheeks turned red. “Never mind… I thought you said get _it_ on.” He looked around the group once, trying to gather how big the damage was, everyone stayed awkwardly quiet. The weight of his mistake slowly dawned on him and he buried his face in his hands. “I should go now.” He stood and said in a monotone voice, “This has been fun.” Then turned and marched toward the door.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just had an intense day it seems.” I said to smooth over the whole ordeal.

The girls just sort of shrugged. They probably assumed that this was plain old Oliver Wood acting up before a game. Although I was still in a state of utter shock as to what had just happened. My stomach was fluttering like a butterfly.

I left the common room for my bed and my friends tagged along. I sat down on the bed, eating the dinner they had brought me. Again, they didn’t seem to think much of what Oliver had said or anything relating to it. Which was a relief. My lips probably hadn’t been noticeably swollen. I wished I could tell that to Oliver right now though as he was probably worried about it and he really didn’t need the extra stress right now.

I stared out the rain-prickled window beside my bed as I took another bite of my food. It was so dark outside already.

_I needed more._

The words were floating in the air around me. I put away the food, drew the curtains of my bed and lay there, unable to force my wide smile back. I went through the kiss in my mind over and over again, praying for every detail to remain, until darkness ensued.

* * *

  **31 October 2018**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like/dislike anything about this chapter? Please let me know!


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Wright took a bite of her apple. This annoyed the hinkypunks out of me. Wright never ate a single unhealthy thing. There we were, it was late and we’d been sitting in our dorm for I don’t know how many hours, alternating between preparing for the game the next day and catching up on homework.

And Wright was eating an apple! While the rest of us were desperate for whatever sugar we could find. I’d been wolfing down Fizzing Whizzbees for hours, but she seemed immune to sweet temptations. She was always snacking on nuts or a tomato or whatever and it made me and the others feel like utter trash.

I threw the thought to the side, scaled it down to being about my stress about the match. In the last few days I’d barely left the pitch or common room. In the moment all I felt was worn down and stressed, but from experience I knew that in a few weeks I would look back at this time and find myself missing it. I would miss having a reason to always be in the air or hanging out close and intensely with my friends.

It was always a strange time, the week before a game. Being the captain especially brought with it some strange interactions. People I didn’t know came up to me wishing me luck or giving me advice, the latter being mostly boys thinking they are somehow needed. Usually, I would humour them for a while as an inside joke with my friends, trying to make them feel like they had my attention and then I bring out the big guns, firing at them with Quidditch terms they didn’t know of and plays they’d never even tried, that would usually shut them up. Sometimes I could keep a straight face through that part but usually I would laugh in their faces and they’d stalk of, to my solace, never to return.

“Alright guys. We should probably sleep now.” I said. “A good night’s sleep is probably the most important asset we can have tomorrow.” Everyone agreed and I began gathering all the books and junk off the floor.

“Are you nervous Willow?” Bianca asked from her bed. She was reading the biography of Uric the Oddball, to which I smiled at. Bianca loved biographies for some reason.

“About the game? Not really. Maybe it’ll kick-in tomorrow.” I replied. Bianca still had that searching expression on her face, she seemed to expect my facial expression to tell her something my words wouldn’t. But it was true. I wasn’t really nervous. I couldn’t say that I didn’t want to win tomorrow, I did. If I didn’t then I wouldn’t have spent the last of my waking hours making sure I was fully prepared. — But nervous? No. Quidditch didn’t make me nervous. If it had, I don't think I would have enjoyed it as much.

I did have some feelings though, but nervous wasn’t the right word for it, more like curious, about how Oliver would react to the results tomorrow. If Hufflepuff won, then rest in peace to our friendship/acquaintance/whatever. What had happened the last time we saw each other was still gnawing at my mind, but my friends had asked no further questions. My row with Oliver seemed to be the last thing they wanted to hear about at the moment, which I was more than happy about.

* * *

Saturday came as expected. To say that Saturday was expected would actually be an understatement of sorts. Walking into the Great Hall for breakfast at 8 a.m. –the only Saturday of few where I was actually in the Great Hall at this time– had me breathless. Around the entirety of Hufflepuff table were people dressed in yellow and black, they had banners placed by the table as well. I made a vow to myself to try and read every single one once up in the air before the game began.

I assumed that there were people dressed in scarlet and gold as well, but I couldn’t tell you for a fact. All I saw right then was yellow and black.

I found it very odd. I’d been through this before, the hype of the supporters. But not like this, it felt personal, like they were _my_ supporters primarily. Which sounds conceited, I know. But I didn’t care. Today was my day no matter the results of the match. Also, I was telling the truth when I said I was going to work on my ego.

When I walked up to the spot where my friends (including my whole team) sat, everyone cheered. Not only did my friends cheer, my whole house cheered. Graham was sitting there, right next to my plate of beans and toast. I smiled warmly at everyone and cheered back.

“This is going to be a fun day.” I smiled widely and everyone cheered again. Graham only laughed at our, to him, strange conduct.

The events before the game poured by like water. I thoroughly enjoyed walking through the corridors with my team and wishing every player we met good luck on our way down to the pitch. When Roger came up to wish us luck my friends gave me a look. I discovered that I found it strange talking to him after _The Revelation_. He asked to continue our sessions, which I agreed to although disappointed that it apparently wasn’t because of my herbology skills.

We didn’t see Oliver before the game. I figured that I should probably be thankful for it, _that_ is one person I would find it strange talking to from hereon. But I was curious, and I knew that my curiosity could not be stilled until I inevitably talked to him to see how he was.

We both knew how he got before a Quidditch match, we both knew we’d kissed, we both knew about our… rivalry of some sorts? I just didn’t know what to expect, how would he act around me? How would I, around him?

“Alright people of all genders,” I clapped my hands together, which made an echoing sound in the locker room. I felt like a true captain, I had taken on a role today that I didn’t usually do. I was acting professional. Everyone was in their gear, looking at me expectantly. “It’s not like I can tell you anything we haven’t already discussed multiple times in the last few days. But I just want to take a moment to give us some credit. We’ve been really dedicated lately and it’s shown results, we’ve all advanced rapidly… and I’m proud of us.” I finished with a smile.

“Aren’t you proud?” I asked them excitedly, trying to get a response, and response I got indeed when everyone cheered loudly. Language hadn’t been all that articulate since I woke up. It had been more like a lot of loud noises from most people. I took this as a good sign. Quidditch is physical and every interaction had turned into that of a very physical and primal one. We were all very energetic. We were in the right zone.

The team stepped out of the locker room and into the cold and rugged weather. The sounds of our voices were immediately drowned out by the louder sounds of the stands.

When I spotted Angelina and the others I ran up to them, I figured that talking to friends would make me think less about the hundreds of people in those seats. I greeted them warmly with hugs. I noticed that Oliver was among them, but tried not to look at him. I tried not to think about how we were going to shake hands in a couple of minutes.

And those minutes passed unthinkably quickly before Madam Hooch blew her silver whistle, asking for us to take our places on the pitch.

I turned to my team. “Are you nervous guys?” I asked trying to sound as cheery as I could despite the small lump that had finally begun to form in my stomach.

“Yeah I’m quite nervous, I’ll admit.” Hamish said between breaths. I had noticed to my contentment that the previously reserved Hamish had gradually become more comfortable and outgoing since he’d joined our team.

Hamish’s confession seemed to have served as a cue for everyone else to tune in with their nervous mutterings. I went in for an as good of a group hug as I could with an assemblage of seven people. “It doesn’t matter guys. None of this matters, okay? Remember that time we all looked for the snitch and no one could find it? This is just like that. A couple of friends having fun on a field.” I looked at each-and-every-one with a serious expression, “Have fun out there.” before I turned and walked toward the middle of the field, broom in hand, to shake hands with my friend/acquaintance/whatever.

“We won.” Said Peter Griffith to me.

“You said that already.” I answered him. I was dazed, that’s for sure. I was sure it wasn’t because of the whiskey, since I, apart from everyone else, hadn’t had any.

“I just can’t believe it.” He continued breathlessly and took a huge swig of his fire whisky.

“GUUUYS!” PJ yelled from what is normally considered too distant to start a conversation. She was holding two fire whiskeys and made her way through our crowded common room. I had to say, PJ was killing it. She was looking really good in her dress and I had rarely seen her this giddy and excited. She was by far the loudest, which is saying something since the party had been going on for a while and people were _loud_.

“Guys!” She yelled again once she had caught up to us. “Where is Oliver?” My finger flew up to point at him as quickly as it usually did and I then proceeded to regret it immediately, like I usually did. She looked at me oddly. “Okay good, I need to flaunt the victory.” She laughed, a little too much but I held it down to being a result of her drunkenness.

Griffith had gone and I was left alone watching PJ try and talk to Oliver. With his hands in his pockets I watched him smile politely at what she was saying. He caught my eye and we smiled at each other at PJ’s expense until our smiles turned into grins, while an oblivious PJ kept talking. I had been stealing glances at Oliver all night, once in a while, he’d returned them and we’d smiled. It was nice. I thought back to earlier today when I had been anxious about shaking his hand. Like most things I worry about, the handshake had passed without much drama. I think we had both been uncertain of how to handle it and ended up not really meeting each other’s eyes.

The celebration party had been a different story however. I still hadn’t talked to him. I had initially hung out with my crew until they got drunk, which was the end of any chance at a longer conversation with anyone of them. I found that drunk people had a hard time being in one place for longer than a couple of minutes.

Instead I had wandered the room, having brief conversations with a number of people from different houses. Surprisingly a lot of Slytherins had come to the party, which I was happy with. Oliver seemed to have done the same, but we had rotated the room on different courses. And whenever I’d spotted him in a conversation, he’d seemed relaxed. He’d seemed like he was enjoying himself. It was all too odd.

“Damn.” PJ broke my thoughts. She was back by my side. “Oliver is really cool now, he even laughed.” She stated confused. “What did you do to him Will?” She joked and elbowed me on my side, an uncharacteristic thing for PJ to do. Again, I blame it on the drinks she’d had.

“Hey.” Bianca said, suddenly being beside us with Wright by her side. “Did you guys see Oliver? He seems suspiciously… cheery.” She furrowed her brows.

“Guys.” I calmed them. “Maybe he’s just not that upset about the results.” I reasoned. “I mean, it’s not like he could have done much about what happened.”

“Yeah, he couldn’t really have seen _that_ coming I guess.” PJ agreed. “It was quite shocking.”

We all stood in silence for a while and before I knew it they had all gone as quick as they’d all arrived. I decided instead upon looking around for Graham, whom I hadn’t seen in a while. I ventured into the crowds, but soon found that I had underestimated them and they were far too great for little old me. I didn’t think I’d ever seen the Hufflepuff common room that crowded. Not to throw shade at my own house, but it’s not like we usually had victory-parties.

“Too many people?” A voice that didn’t belong to Graham but instead Oliver asked. I had apparently looked quite uncomfortable while trudging through the masses I realised and for the first time tonight I faked a smile at Oliver. We made our way to a less crowded part of the room.

“Congratulations.” Oliver said once we were standing still. “You won. Fair and square.” I searched his features. He didn’t seem to be holding any resentment and his voice was polite. He was even smiling a little.

“Your seeker fell from the sky.” I argued.

He furrowed his brows, features suddenly becoming reflective for a second. “Still, you were good.” He said with a bring-back of his cheerier tone.

“Yeah, thanks. You too.” We stood still, letting the conversation be taken over by the loud sounds coming from all around us.

“This isn’t you.” I broke the silence. My voice had come out light-hearted. “You’re so civil, so… reasonable.” I hoped as I said it that he wouldn’t take offence.

 _Here I was hoping not to offend Oliver Wood._ Life changes in the oddest of ways.

“Yeah well.” He hesitated, still with a smile on his face, that genuine one that I liked. “You should have seen me an hour ago.” He bit his lip like he felt embarrassed.

I laughed. _Was he being insecure? Really?_

“I… The Weasley twins had to drag me out of the showers.” He looked at me through his brows as if the sun had blinded him. “But!” He continued. “I am okay now. I’m trying to be a… good sport.” He said while I tried to hold back a growing smile, it was hard. I felt weird inside.

“I… appreciate that.” We then smiled dumbly at each other for a good while.

“You stand out.” He broke the silence by saying.

“Really?” I looked down at myself. “I didn’t dress up.”

“Yes. That’s why you stand out.” He said with a very prominent Scottish accent and a roll of his eyes, like it was obvious. His Scottish-ness would usually alternate between being really thick and barely noticeable.

“You know what Oliver? Maybe we should be friends from now on. How does that sound?” I didn’t know where the proposition came from, but I felt we needed to make it official.

Oliver looked surprised at my proposition, he hesitated and for a moment and I began to contemplate if he _still_ didn’t want to be my friend. “That… sounds good.” He agreed and before I could say anything else he said, “I should get back to my friends.” And left me alone.

“Goodbye friend.” I wondered if he was upset by something, but cast the thought to the side when I saw my friends approaching me.

“We’re going to play the betting game!” They all said simultaneously. Except for Wright who was busy dancing. She danced like she wasn’t paying attention to anything but the music.

“Great!” I replied enthusiastically while eyeing Wright with a questioning look. I was henceforth determined to enjoy this party like everyone else already had been up until now. To show my friends that I could indeed also be fun in that way.

We began playing the betting game. But before I move onto that part there is something that needs to be explained.

_Bianca._

Bianca had this thing where she thought she knew everything. She thought she knew what was going on in every situation, when in reality she didn’t have a clue. Most of the time this didn’t hurt anyone, some of the time she was even right. At those times it wasn’t really a problem. Sometimes however, she believed she knew more about people’s business than they knew themselves, which lead to her feeling the need to intervene. This could be exceptionally destructive at the times where she was _dead wrong_ about her so-called “intuition”.

One of her intuitions was about Graham and I being in love with each other. PJ would have called it “skinny love”.

Bianca would typically make obvious remarks about us. She would take any chance to point out something positive about Graham. If I said I liked boys with dark hair, she’d remark on Graham having dark hair. She would utter things like, “You’re so cute!” if we sat together and “Get a room!” if we were being nice to one another.

Tonight was no exception.

“Willow!” Alicia called. I smiled warmly at her as we approached the small gathering of people sitting closely huddled together in a corner of the room. I saw Angelina and Alicia there, Graham and his friends from Slytherin and the rest of my team except for Cedric, who was probably hanging out with much cooler people.

“You’re going to play with us?” Alicia asked when I sat down next to her. She smelled of a really nice perfume, Alicia was constantly in a cloud of nicely scented perfume, which I loved.

“Of course I am.” I answered. “You smell really nice.”

“I was just about to say you smell really nice!” Alicia almost shouted at me, only to then lean in far too closely to smell me. I could already tell that most of the people I was currently in the company of where more than tipsy. A notion, which made me feel oddly limited in this particular game, compared to everyone else. This was a game of bravery, something of which I lacked in comparison to the others who had been pouring fire whiskey down their throats.

“You smell amazing! Like coconut, I think!” Alicia continued happily. Angelina then also leaned in to sniff me.

“Alright guys, we got Will here, now can we get on with the game?” Wright snapped. Apparently no longer mindlessly dancing.

Angelina turned facing Wright who seemingly had appointed herself as the leader of the game. “Why can’t we just play the normal games like ‘truth or dare’ or ‘never have I ever’? She pleaded.

“There isn’t an as prevalent element of gamble to those games.” Wright explained simply.

“And the added element of chance is good?” She didn’t seem to comprehend our reasoning.

I laughed. “I find it funny how blatantly obvious it is that you are on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.” I teased her.

Angelina sat back with some faint shame adorning her face. “It makes it harder to play strategically.” She defended.

“That’s the point.” PJ explained. “Less control and all the more fun!”

The game broke out. Angelina and Alicia were reluctant but everyone else seemed intrigued as to what the game of bets had to offer. Others, like my dear Hufflepuff mates, appeared eager to broadcast how incredibly mad and ridiculous the game could get. I myself, felt eager to appear somewhat aloof. I was keen to prove that I could do wild things and not care. But to my disappointment, I was never picked. Was it because my friends wanted the people who had never played to get the full experience they had invested in? Or was it, as I feared — that they assumed I wouldn’t come through given the lack of magically tainted beverages in my system.

We moved around across the common room, through the crowds, another fun element to this game — one is constantly on the move as all the dares are physical. We did manage to get some onlookers after another crazy stunt or two. People joined, people followed only as groupies, things were escalating.

“Odds 1-10 for Hamish to duel a seventh year!”

“Odds 1-3 for Jason to fly across the room on his broom!”

“Odds 1-4 for Quentin to drink five glasses of fire whiskey!”

“Odds 1-2 for Willow to kiss Graham!”

Everyone stopped to look at me, see how I would react. It was Bianca who spoke. Wright and PJ were looking at her like she was about to be hit by the Whomping Willow, or maybe another Willow. I however, was looking at Bianca in disbelief. Disbelief she had picked that dare, disbelief she had given me those odds.

“Not being merciful with the odds either, giving her 50/50!” A voice that I soon came to learn belonged to Edwin, Graham’s friend. I dared take a look at Graham, who met me with concern. Concern, which Edwin on Graham’s right didn’t seem to share. He was holding onto Graham, looking as happy as ever for his friend. Quentin on Graham’s left however, was looking angrily at me. What I derived from this was that Quentin seemed to still believe that I was somehow leading Graham on, and they were both still stuck in the picture that depicted an in love Graham, with me.

I shot my, up until this point, platonic comrade who I only did platonic things with a sorrowful glance. Before I unwillingly faced Bianca again. “Start counting.” I ordered. It was surprisingly quiet around the group. Bianca looked as if she was supposedly feeling some mild regret at the action she had taken, and mostly the reaction she had got. But she did count, and everyone joined in as loud as they could.

As one can imagine, both Graham and I shouted the same number, to our joint doom. We looked at each other as we did with remorse. Graham stood still while everyone waited in anticipation. And only to prove what I wanted proven, I walked up to him along the diameter of the circle that had gathered. Being the bravest I had ever been, I took his face in my hands and kissed him. To everyone’s surprise, especially Graham’s, I hung on to the kiss. I kissed him deeper, causing him to grab my hips mindlessly. We stood like that, letting out tongues do some work on each other. Everyone cheered, which made me feel disgusted at the whole ordeal. But I didn’t stop kissing him, I didn’t want to appear stiff, didn’t want to ruin the _fun_.

When I released Graham, I remained expressionless. In fact I did my best not to look at him at all.

* * *

  **10 November 2018**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like/dislike anything about this chapter? Please let me know!


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

I went to bed fairly early last night. Early at least compared to everyone else. Which then caused me to wake up hours before everyone else. A good thing, I decided, as I had not spoken to Bianca since the dare, and she had not spoken to me. In fact she had even gone so far as to avoid me. I figured she thought I was angry with her, which I actually wasn’t. I was as surprised by this fact as anyone else.

I had woken up after a good night’s sleep by the sun shining directly on my face. I had got up to close them, longing to be outside in the cold and crispy morning sun.

And here I was, not finding it in myself to care enough to be upset. We had won our first game of the year last night, and my first game during the course of my captaincy. I wasn’t going to spend the next day being angry with anyone, not even Oliver. Although I didn’t have a reason to be angry with him I realised then, it was a funny feeling.

I got dressed as quick as I could so as to not risk having a conversation with one of my dorm mates should they wake up. Again, I wasn’t angry with Bianca. But there was a conversation that needed to be had, one I’d rather put off for as long as I could.

So I did. I dressed warmly, something which I didn’t do often. My body was usually pretty good at keeping warm, either that or I accepted the cold. But it was almost December and I wanted to be outside for as long as I could.

When I stepped out on the grounds after breakfast the sun had yet to catch all of the frost and the grass still glimmered beautifully. The frost combined with the lack of students on the grounds made everything quieter. It was a still day, void of so much as a breeze.

I walked alongside the Great Lake while making sure I avoided the Dementors. I didn’t know how to cast a patronus charm and thought it best to avoid giving them any reason to bother me. I sat down and let the sun warm my face. I let myself smile for a while. To give myself a reason for staying outside in the nice weather I picked a book out of my bag and read for as long as I could until my fingers were aching from the cold.

Once I stepped inside the castle again I wanted to go sit by Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom to see if Graham would possibly pass by. But I thought it best to avoid my usual places at the risk of Bianca or the others passing by. I finally decided on settling for a secluded place in the library. Chances were neither of them wouldn’t be in the right mind-set to go to the library today, and would instead spend most of the day in our dormitory and suffering the aftereffects of the party. Knowing them they probably wouldn’t even bother to go into the common room.

There I sat for the remainder of the day, reading, studying and having a chat with a semi-acquaintance or two. When it was time for dinner I was starving. But instead of going down to The Great Hall I went down to the kitchens in a manoeuvre to further avoid my friends. I knew a decent house elf down there named Elly who would provide some food for me if I asked kindly. I then retrieved back to my bed for the day, making sure to close the curtains around my bed this time and I fell asleep shortly, having safely managed to avoid uncomfortable conversations.

That was until the next day.

On Monday I also woke up earlier than my friends. I always did, only in this instance I didn’t bother waking them. Instead, I headed down for breakfast alone. When I entered the hall I walked straight toward the Slytherin table with a clear objective in mind. As luck would have it, Graham and his friends were already sitting there. I made people move so that I could slump down next to Graham. The table of food before me looked especially delicious after the lack of nutrition I had had the day prior, causing me to disregard my current mission until further notice. I hurled up food on my plate, ignoring the looks I got.

“Uh, Willow?” Graham asked as kindly as he could.

“Yes.” I propped my mouth with food, the walk to The Great Hall had really set my digestive system in motion and I needed food _now_.

“You’re acting strange.” He told me.

“I know!” I tried to say with a mouth full of food. “I needed to talk to you but I also have barely had anything to eat in the past day.”

“Okay. I understand.”

We sat quietly while I awkwardly ate my food.

I turned to Graham and said anxiously, “I’m sorry Graham.”

“About what?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” I answered. I wasn’t sure how I would put this. Which is why I had rushed up to him like this, I didn’t want to think about it. I wanted it over with, didn’t want the situation to seethe in my mind for any longer than it already had. “I guess I just feel bad about kissing you.”

“It’s not your fault that you kissed me, Willow. You had to. Or at least if you want to follow the rules of that ridiculous game.” Graham said casually while taking spoons of his oatmeal.

“I know, but…” I started, still sounding apologetic. “It’s more about the _way_ I kissed you…” I treaded. “I worry people might think we’re together.” I said quietly. I knew that there had been a lot of people at the party, students from every house had been there and not many of them were aware that there was a game going on. In fact, I do believe I had noticed some conspicuous staring since I had sat down next to my dear friend.

“Not that I’m complaining, because I… _loved it_!” Graham began and I punched his arm before immediately regretting doing so as the average onlooker might interpret it as flirting. “But if you didn’t want people to think we’re a thing then maybe you shouldn’t have made such a show of kissing me.” He continued, trying to be as delicate as he could, for once in his life.

“It was a pretty good kiss.” Edwin said encouragingly. Graham’s friends had so far remained quiet since I had sat down. Now he was smiling kindly at me. The more I hung out with Edwin, the more I enjoyed his company. He was sweet and always seemed happy. He wasn’t the know-it-all I had previously gotten the impression he was. I then recalled some time ago when Graham had explained this phenomenon to me:

_“You might get that impression if you see him in potions class. He turns into a different person. Suddenly he doesn’t care about anyone or anything but his grade and what angle you should hold the ladle with stirring.” He had explained to me while a rolling his eyes. “‘The boomslang skin won’t properly melt otherwise!’” he had quoted Edwin with a demeaning tone._

Graham took a bite of his toast while exchanging looks with Edwin. “It was hot.” Graham agreed.

Completely weirded-out I gave Graham a look, “Don’t say that.” I commanded.

“It was!” He argued. “You really went for it. I wouldn’t mind doing it again honestly!”

“Oh Merlin! Graham, shut up! People will think we’re together if you shout stuff like that!” Putting aside how odd it felt to have him say such a thing, seeing him be as comfortable talking about it in such a way did take the edge off the whole situation.

Graham laughed, “I wasn’t shouting.” He corrected me.

“And I think people already _do_ think you’re together.” Quentin said in his usual sardonic voice that annoyed me greatly. He however, had not grown on me in the same way Edwin had.

“Okay! Guys! I know it was stupid. Sometimes I just feel like I need to prove myself, okay?” I defended myself.

“What do you mean?” Graham asked, realising that I was expressing serious emotion.

“I mean… I need to prove that I can still be fun without the drinks.” I said with a hint of insecurity playing on my voice.

“Oh.” Gone was Graham’s previously playful behaviour, replaced instead with comprehension.

“Anyway. I just want you to know that I didn’t really want to put you in a position you weren’t comfortable with. Sometimes I feel pressured. And that sucks. But it’s fine.” I trailed off. “Anyway, I think you understand what I’m saying.” I smiled at Graham while his friends sat quiet, not having been prepared for the serious turn this conversation had taken.

Graham smiled back. “Willow, it’s really Bianca who put us in that situation. It’s not on you. Or actually, it’s on both of us for joining the game to begin with, we both knew it wasn’t going to be pretty.” He laughed.

“Yeah, we really put our names in the Goblet of Fire with that one.” I laughed.

With a hug goodbye to Graham and a see off to his mates I made my way to the greenhouses for Herbology. Knowing my friends would without a doubt be there formed a knot in my stomach.

“Good morning Pomona.” I greeted the professor upon entering greenhouse six carrying _Goshawk's Guide to Herbology_ , which was quite the struggle as it’s not known to be a small book.

“Good morning, Willow!” Pomona replied chirpily. Most of my Hufflepuff friends and I were on first name basis with Pomona. It was unavoidable as she was the friendliest of all the teachers in my opinion and she would typically hang out with us in our common room. She would swing by with a plant or two in her hand, telling us about them. The whole common room was beautifully decorated with funny plants she’d brought. Us students would take care of them for her. Thankfully, she never brought anything with all that convoluted instructions.

“Why on earth are you carrying that book? You’re going to hurt your back walking like that all day!” Pomona cried at me and took the book from me.

“It doesn’t fit in my bag.” I explained.

Pomona gave me a displeased scorn. She waved her wand toward my bag. “There you go.” She said righteously with her hands on her hips.

I had a look inside my now much roomier bag that hung from my shoulder. “An undetectable extension charm!” I called gleefully. “Thanks!”

“I can’t have my students breaking their backs transporting books over these foolish distances.” She muttered while motioning toward the general area of the castle. Eventually she realised I would still need the book for this class and she grudgingly handed it back to me.

“Get on with your work now, pip-pip.” Pomona was eager for us to continue our work. All students were currently working independently on a project. We were each growing our own walking plant. Some of the plants, mine excluded, had already begun walking and Pomona was constantly on us not to let them escape the greenhouse as they would not survive the cold for very long. This task was not as easy as one could imagine. They were small and tricky little bastards. If you didn’t keep your eye on it for a second, it would wander off and try to get a window open.

I carried my book as best I could over to the dreaded group of people. My friends had already been eyeing me when I turned away from Pomona. I now had no option but to finally face them. The break yesterday had been appreciated, but it hadn’t done much to soothe out any supposed hostility.

I placed the book next to my sad excuse for a plant while the others pretended to be tending to theirs.

“Hi Will.” PJ said. Trying and failing to sound like nothing had happened.

“Hello, PJ.” I said while staring at my plant, it was more of a stump actually. I realised I should probably look at them if I wanted to make amends, so I beheld them and smiled. “Hi guys.”

Bianca was studying me with uncertainty. To my unease she took hold of her plant, went up and placed it next to mine. I mentally begged Merlin she wouldn’t make a bigger deal out of this than I already had. I begged she wouldn’t cause a scene in the greenhouse, in front of all the other students, in front of Pomona. But I saw only apprehension in her features.

“Are you angry with me?” She asked anxiously. “You were gone all day yesterday.”

Both Bianca and the others looked concerned to say the least. There was no annoyance or resentment whatsoever. Only worry. I suddenly felt quite bad about not having spoken to them for all this time. Their trepidation warmed my heart.

“No, not really.” was all I could muster at this point. I felt a bit shameful.

There was a collective sigh of relief among the group. Bianca spoke first. “Okay good. It was stupid of me to put you in that situation. You know how I can be…” She trailed of, not wanting to be too specific and bring up painful memories.

“We’re just so happy you’re not angry.” Wright said relieved, and PJ agreed.

“So, are you and Graham together now?” Bianca asked eagerly. She really titillandus-ed that draco dormiens with that sentence.

I shot her a glare before I could stop myself. “When will you get it in your head Bianca? We’re not in love!” I said exasperatedly. I was fuming inside, nearly ripped out the pages of my book as I speedily turned them and had to mentally condole Goshawk.

Bianca furrowed her brows. “Really?”

“But why did you kiss him like that then?” PJ asked.

I stopped in my tracks and sighed moodily. “Because.” I declared while staring at the plants above us that hung from the roof.

Everyone waited for me to continue but I was unsure of how. “I guess I just wanted to show you guys how I can still do wild things even though I’m not under the influence of anything.”

They all seemed to understand what I meant.

Bianca placed her hand on my shoulder. “So you’re not in love with Graham.” She proclaimed. Indicating to me that she had understood my frustration and had accepted the fact.

To my relief, nothing else was said on the subject and we continued on with the lesson. Except for Wright, who admiringly added, “Just so you know, Will, there is no doubt in my mind that you’re the craziest one of us.”

But I still wasn't sure.

* * *

**13 November 2018**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like/dislike anything about this chapter? Please let me know!


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

I looked out with a childlike glee onto the falling snow outside our dorm room. “The best day of the year.” I whispered to myself.

Discounting Halloween, probably. Or actually, Halloween and Decoration Day might be equally thrilling if I were to compare the two.

For those unfamiliar with the term, Decoration Day, or Deco Day, if you will, was a day that brought utter delight to my life. It was the day when all of Hogwarts was transformed from being a grey castle made of stone –not that I normally had a problem with that look– into a wintery holiday-fest! It was the day when the staff (mostly Hagrid,) decorated the castle.

This day was better than Christmas. Not only was it a lovely day in itself, it also contained all the anticipation of the lead up to _the actual_ Christmas Day. It was a perfect start to a wonderful month.

Such a shame I had to be the one to wake everyone up though. I had risen early and was in a state of tremendous excitement. I knew that we had agreed I would wake them. I also knew that on a lot of days, I was the one who would wake them. It was a pretty standard procedure is what I mean to say. Never does it get easier though. It makes me feel like a bad person, like the bearer of bad news. No one is ever _happy_ to have to stand up after having been unconscious for approximately eight hours, without food or drink. But I guess if there were to be a day when one would be happy to get out of bed in that particular state then today would be that day.

I began knocking on the columns of their four posters. “Students of Hogwarts, I implore you all to get up as quickly and as smoothly as you can.” I knew it didn’t really matter what I said, in the shape they were in nothing could be comprehended until after about five minutes following waking. I had come to learn this after, on several occasions, having woken them excitedly to tell them about plays I had thought of in my sleep. Only to have them forget what I was talking about within the next minute.

“You all know what day it is, and we have a packed schedule for the day, one which we need to get on top of right away.”

We had learned after years of practise where everything would be being put up and at around what time. We had come to learn that if we were on the ground floor by the Grand Staircase around noon, we would have time to be in the library around the time when Madam Pince decorated the library, as she would never get going until around midday. Which left us time to catch Hagrid making the Viaduct Courtyard pretty in the afternoon and then get back for dinner where we would be able to view what Mr. Filch has turned the Great Hall into, all in one piece.

My friends began drawing the drapes of their four-posters, one by one. The day had officially begun.

**10 a.m.**

I found that being the most excited about something could be poignant. Wright, PJ, Bianca and I were sat on the Grand Staircase watching Hagrid try desperately not to fall off the feeble ladder he was standing on. He was decorating the giant, soon to be, Christmas tree. At the moment it wasn’t looking so much like a Christmas tree. However, I knew from experience that no matter how hopeless Hagrid’s attempts at the decorations would look, they would always somehow turn out looking absolutely _magical_ in the end. I wasn’t as on edge to help him with his pursuits, personally being able to use magic and all, as I had been in my earlier days. I would blame desensitization but I reckon I’d just realised that Hagrid loved doing this. I believed it made him feel needed, and he was needed. He also loved helping Dumbledore make the school as welcoming as he could.

Yet it was poignant. I could tell my friends wanted to be there, but mostly for my sake. Clues were for example questions like, “How long do you guys think this will take?” or just the fact that they were currently talking about something seemingly irrelevant we had just seen in the Tapestry Corridor.

“I reckon they probably got together during our win party.” PJ added to the conversation.

I was always the nostalgic one of us. And I do admit that I was agonizingly aware of the fact that this would be the last year we could do this together. This stupid day of which we seemed to be among the only few at this school to care about.

It’s not that it was any less magical than when I was little. It’s more that nowadays these celebratory days seemed to come and go much quicker. They passed by in the blink of an eye and I felt stressed that I wouldn’t have time to soak it all in before they were gone again. This year they would be gone forever and the thought hurt, to say the least.

“I feel like everyone got together with someone at that party. I heard Oliver got with someone.” Wright said then, which caused my attention to veer dramatically. I had only been half listening when I heard the mention of Oliver, but my mind retroactively pieced the pieces together and then a ball of nervousness formed in my stomach. The sensation burned.

“Who told you that?” I asked.

I had been somewhat excluded from the conversation until then, which caused them all to turn toward me in an intimidating manner.

“Damn, who was it? PJ, you were there.” Wright said, signalling for PJ to help her recall.

“Must have been Katie Bell, who else could it have been?” PJ replied.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“I’m 99% certain that it was Katie.” PJ confirmed, looking assured.

“How strange.” I said quietly. I kept studying Hagrid as he climbed down the ladder once again, only to move it a couple of feet and climb up it again to start on a different part of the tree.

How strange it felt to think that I had been the one kissing Oliver not two weeks ago. I had tried to remain unconcerned then, to not make it into a big deal and focus solely on the approaching game. After the game the kiss had felt sort of… antiquated. Like something of the past, that wasn’t relevant anymore. Frankly I had thought the match would be the end of our acquaintance, not the beginning of our friendship.

“It’s not that strange.” Bianca explained, “He’s finally noticed his appeal and is taking advantage of it.”

“What do you mean?” Asked PJ.

“What I _mean,_ is have you ever seen him with a bird?” We all laughed and mocked Bianca’s use of the word bird, but she ignored us. “…And suddenly he’s got a girlfriend of some sort?” She questioned. “He’s finally realised that he’s attractive.” She concluded like she was teaching a class.

“Although we don’t know if she’s his _girlfriend_.” I felt compelled to add.

“That’s true. Does anyone know who she is?” She curiously looked around at us, mainly at PJ, hoping to get answers.

“Nah, didn’t think to ask her.” PJ said.

**1 p.m.**

At this point we were sat in the library, now with a couple of extra people to accompany us in the form of some members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I was still a little out of breath from the run up there.

Yes, the four of us had run three floors after having had lunch in the Great Hall in a competition of who could get here the fastest. It was not good. But a competition is a competition, it’s fun, and fun we had. Especially fun was it when Wright hadn’t managed to jump the next step before the stairs changed, sending her off to Professor Lupin’s office, which was an entirely different direction. The look of utter apprehension on her face had been quite enough to send us coiling down into a laughing fit.

Our Gryffindor friends had been sitting quietly studying when, to their astonishment, we had all suddenly appeared at the door, all out of breath, all at the same time. Except for Wright of course who had appeared red faced a few minutes later. This had them coiling down the same laughing fit as we previously had.

Instead of studying, even though I had the necessities for it with me, I was mostly watching Madam Pinch as she hung Christmas wreaths on the walls. She made more of a show of putting the decorations up than Hagrid did, using magic and all. It was over much quicker though.

My friends, not studying either, were badgering Oliver’s teammates about his supposed girlfriend and who she was. I, on the other hand, tried my best not to listen to it. I had gotten a nervous feeling in my stomach ever since they had first mentioned the matter, and I just couldn’t shake it. Feeling anything about the matter was surprising to me, but nervousness? That was a riddle I couldn’t solve.

But my best turned out not to be good enough, for the name still managed to seep its way into my ears.

Andrea Weise.

I didn’t know Andrea all that well. I knew that she was in our year. She was a Gryffindor. She sang in the Frog Choir, which was pretty cool. Even though the choir was a bit of a laughing stock at the school, it was ill placed in my opinion. I found them, and especially her, amazing every time they preformed. The choir sung in Latin and I could tell that this had given her an advantage at all incantation-based academics. She was a great spell caster and particularly adept at wandless magic, managing some easy spells I couldn’t dream of performing at this stage in my education.

Their relationship was a hot subject between Gryffindors apparently. Apparently, they had both been spotted together on multiple occasions.

“So weird to think both you and Oliver have got people now.” Someone was saying. I always found it odd when people would use the term “have” in that particular context. It implies that someone is owned. Oliver doesn’t _have_ anyone, and it's a weird thing to imply.

I then realised that it was Alicia who was speaking, and she was speaking to me. With a glance at my friends, who were looking at me like I was a Mandrake about to scream, I calmly set her straight.

“You’re referring to Graham, I presume? We’re not together.” I said, receiving multiple confused looks from the company. “I don’t have anyone.”

**3 p.m.**

The only time students would ever hang out on the Viaduct Courtyard in winter was when the Christmas decorations were being put up. Except for when the Weasley’s would organize snowball fights, at those times it seemed like students where nowhere else but here.

It was just the four of us again. We had sat down on a bench, cold and tired. It was distinctly darker and the sun would soon be fully set behind the mountains. The lights on the courtyard had magically lit up as soon as the dark had oozed in. We were mostly sitting quietly, watching Hagrid drag yet another Christmas tree to its rightful place. The lights served to make the experience tender. There seemed to be a mutual agreement that this moment, the last ever Decoration Day… was rather holy. The lack of speaking was due to it being held with highest regard by us, and speaking would make the moment less divine, we believed.

— That and tiredness, probably.

PJ let out a gasp. “Look! There they are!” She was nodding her head discreetly at Oliver, who had just arrived at the courtyard. We all took in the scene like it was Merlin himself we had spotted.

He was concatenated with Andrea as they treaded through the sheet of snow to sit down on another bench, away from us. It was an astonishing sight to behold. His scarf was neatly tucked around his neck. Oddly enough, his whole attire looked _neat_. The fact that his clothes looked nice for once, did not give me the satisfaction I thought it would. Maybe I actually _did_ like it the other way. His hair was still ruffled however. Probably from snogging Andrea, I thought. Before I could stop it, that nervous feeling erupted in my stomach again. Was it really nervousness?

No matter what the feeling was, seeing him hold her hand and lean toward her in that way, made it erupt.

Andrea smiled, she looked happy. Oliver squinted in our direction through the snow. I didn’t know what to do initially, but I remembered that we were now friends and it would be customary for me to smile at him, so I did. Thankfully he smiled back. His face was pale and his cheeks rosy from the falling snow.

“Since when do Will and Oliver smile at each other?” Asked Wright, tearing my goofy smile and myself away from the interaction I was having.

“We’re friends now.” I declared happily.

All at once, they emoted an excessive degree of amazement. “Are we really at the age where both Will _and_ Oliver can _coexist_ in the same room without causing utter disarray?” PJ joked.

“I think we are.” I agreed. “But you guys know this already, don't you?”

“We know you’ve talked a couple of times. And that he somehow managed to break into our common room, something which I’m still not quite sure of how he did.” PJ said.

“Honestly PJ, it’s not that hard.” I said, to my own disbelief finding myself agreeing with Oliver.

Wright leaned toward me, suddenly curious. “What were you guys doing by the way?”

“We were just hanging out. Like I said, we’re _friends._ ”

“No.” Bianca asserted. “I don’t believe it.” She eyed me challengingly, “You’re going to have to prove it.”

I sighed. I gazed over at Oliver and Andrea, fearing whatever would come next. “How do you purpose I do that?” I asked sluggishly, knowing she already had an idea in mind.

“I just want you to talk to them.” She explained simply.

That didn’t sound too bad. Frankly I had expected worse. I just had to have one conversation with Oliver that didn’t turn to shreds and my friends would get off my back about shared smiles with Oliver. Lately I had gotten quite good at this particular feat. I was confident.

I rose and began approaching the couple with Bianca and the rest right behind as my backup.

“Hello Willow!” Andrea called as she saw me approaching them.

I smiled. “Hi Andrea. Hi Oliver.”

Oliver greeted my friends as well but they refused. “Oh, we’re just here to watch.” Bianca said. Had I not been slightly on the uncomfortable side, I would have laughed at their silly behaviour.

Oliver looked at me for answers, considerably more confused by now. But I had none to give.

“So you’re the girl who managed to beat our team.” Andrea joked, managing to soothe the current atmosphere remarkably.

“Your seeker fell from the sky.” I said modestly.

“Nevertheless you did a pretty good job.” Oliver said, causing me a sudden speechlessness.

“It’s true, and I can assure you it’s not the first time he’s said so.” Andrea smiled, managing to make me like her even more. I looked at my friends, who looked back at me in disbelief. I looked at Oliver, who was currently looking away from me.

“How’s your Sopophorous plant doing by the way?” She asked curiously, once again putting me at ease.

“Oh Merlin, that died long ago.” I laughed. “I had completely forgotten about that! How’s yours going? Has it got any beans yet?”

“It does actually! I just started collecting them a couple of weeks ago.” Her eyes were wide in enthusiasm.

“That’s amazing! I can imagine the autumn we’ve had really makes it bloom.” I pondered. “But that’s amazing! If I ever need you for potion making, I’ll let you know.” I joked.

“Do it.” She agreed.

“I just can’t believe you’ve managed to keep it alive this long. You should be tutoring me, instead of me tutoring _Roger Davies_.” I said, making a face.

“You’re tutoring Roger Davies?” Andrea laughed in disbelief.

“Hard to believe, I know.”

I realised then that our conversation had taken of without anyone else included, and the company had begun exchanging glances. “Anyway.” I motioned between the couple at hand. “When did this happen?” I asked Oliver, trying to sound as happy as I could.

“At the Hufflepuff party, I guess.” Oliver said ambiguously, which I pinned down to him being uncomfortable talking about it. “Now we both have people.” He smiled light-heartedly.

I laughed, painfully aware of my friends watching me. “Who do I have?” I asked, already aware of whom he was talking about.

He leaned his head to the side in confusion. “You and Graham kissed, didn’t you?”

I tried to ignore how uncomfortable I felt. Why had I agreed to do this? I laughed in an attempt to lighten the mood. “No that was just a bet.”

Oliver let out a laugh that failed to hide his confusion; a simple “What?” was all he managed.

“Yeah.” I said awkwardly. “You look genuinely confused by this.”

“Yeah, I mean people don’t usually kiss people they’re not involved with.” He reasoned.

 _We kissed._ I thought. Something, which Oliver seemed to also have realised as soon as he spoke for he opened his mouth to say something, but apparently thought better of it and dodged my gaze instead.

For the sake of bringing sound to the quiet I stalely laughed once again before continuing, “It’s just funny you guys think I’m involved with Graham I mean honestly.”

Oliver scoffed, not really laughing.

“It’s not that far fetched.” Andrea argued. “You two are really cute when you’re sitting together in corridors and such.” She spoke kindly.

Bianca seemed to agree with this as she nodded approvingly.

“I thought you were only _watching_.” I fired at Bianca.

The look I received from PJ and Wright made me feel like that Mandrake once again. I realised it was probably a good idea to retrieve back into the shadows. Call it a day. Turn in, etc.

We said our goodbyes that were as uncomfortable as the whole interaction in itself. We went up to Hagrid to congratulate him on his good work, it wouldn’t have felt right not to, and made our way to the last stop on this day’s journey.

Like many days, it seemed like this one was drawing to an end, the last Decoration Day ever. It was bittersweet. On one end I was looking forward to going to bed. Oddly enough, sometimes going to bed could feel like the best part of the day when at Hogwarts. Locking oneself away by pulling the curtains of one’s four-poster and crawling under the sheets could be a welcoming hand after an intense day, with the memories to go through one last time before drifting off. On the other end I knew that I would never get to experience it again, but I tried to let that thought go and enjoy the last of it with my friends instead.

As we were walking through the Tapestry Corridor ‘where it had all begun’ Wright decided it was time to make jokes.

“Turns out you _do_ have a friend we weren’t aware about, but it’s not Oliver.” The others laughed and I let out a frustrated noise.

“I mean I know we like to joke that you are friends with everyone, but the more time passes, I come to realise that it’s true — you truly are friends with _everyone_.” Wright continued humorously.

“Guys.” I began, trying to get their giggly selves to listen to me. “Oliver and I _are_ friends. It just got a little weird back there. It was a weird conversation to have.” I looked at them for approval, which I didn’t receive. “And don’t you remember that I used to go to that extracurricular in Herbology? It was in fifth year. I had kind of forgotten about it too. Anyway, Andrea and I would talk a bit during those lessons.”

“How come I have no memory of this?” Bianca asked, considerably less giggly now.

“I don’t know. But I didn’t really go there for very long, it wasn’t all that fun and also I was _terrible_ at it.”

Before we set our foot in the Great Hall I asked one final time. “Okay, so now do you believe that Oliver and I are friends?”

Wright looked at me before turning to the rest of the group. “Do you believe that Willow and Oliver are friends?” She even seemed amused by the question.

“No.” They chimed in unison.

* * *

 

**18 November 2018**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like/dislike anything about this chapter? Please let me know!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to have accidentally posted chapter 16 twice, so therefore I will post two chapters today.

**Chapter 17**

_But Willow and Oliver did become friends, despite her friends’ scepticism. Willow even grew closer to Andrea, to no one’s disbelief. She and Oliver began to have banter, which people around them found annoying. They began to grin a lot at each other and they began to keep gazes longer than they probably should. Although her friends still remained unconvinced, and a week later Willow found she was still trying to prove it to them, a notion that ended her up at the Gryffindor dining table, in the Great Hall._

My friends still didn’t quite believe that Oliver and I were friends, which resulted in me briefly sitting at the Gryffindor table in an act to try and prove this to them.

When I got there he was sitting across from Alicia. They were both evidently in the middle of an argument and Andrea was nowhere to be found.

“Thank Merlin you’re here, Willow!” Alicia exasperated, sinking her upper body onto the table. Oliver turned around in haste at the mention of my name. “Please save me from this sadistic man!” She pleaded.

“Stop calling me that!” Oliver hissed. “As your captain I’m allowed to tell you if there’s something you need to better yourself at.”

I sat down reluctantly next to Oliver. Walking into a fight was not something I had exactly hoped for as I had made my way over from the Hufflepuff table. I couldn’t say I was surprised though. It was unavoidable if one was a friend with anyone on the Gryffindor team. No other team on this school had such a hostile relationship with each other as that one, but also no other team had Oliver as their captain.

Alicia looked like she was about to hex him. “Can you believe this, Willow?” She asked me. Doing exactly the thing I feared she would. Being dragged into a fight regrettably trumps having to listen to one.

I always adored the relationship between Oliver and his teammates. Don’t get me wrong, a lot could be said about his rhetoric when it came to team spirit, and not much of it would be words of admiration. But at the end of the day, they were all like siblings, something, which my team lacked, even though we did have a lot of fun on the pitch, I knew that I would never come to have that big brother relation to any of my teammates. Overlooking Wright and PJ of course, they were my family.

“Actually, I can.” I said, grinning at Oliver. He merely rolled his eyes, nevertheless, not failing a tiny smile in the process.

Before Alicia could drag me in further I swiftly changed the subject to the one that I came for. “You guys are probably wondering why I came over here.” I looked between the pair of them, realising they hadn’t spared a single thought as to why I had joined them.

“Why did you come over here?” Oliver tried.

“Great question Oliver.” I mocked. “I came over here only to invite you… and others,” I was mostly looking at Alicia, communicating to her that she was supposed to bring Angelina as well. “To our common room this afternoon. We’re going to have an evening of games. An evening of fun.”

“That sounds great!” Alicia said in a distinctly cheerier tone than the one she had previously worn.

Oliver was thinking. “Actually, I was going to work on some diagrams. Can’t you guys come to our common room instead?” He asked.

I spent a moment in silence, taking him in. I was unsure of what to say. I finally settled on, “No.”

Oliver furrowed his brows. “Why not?”

I looked at Alicia to make sure she was hearing what I was hearing. She seemed equally done with Oliver at this point. Once again Oliver seemed completely oblivious to signals other people were sending out, behaviour that I hadn’t experienced in a while and I have to say, it took me by surprise. But I found that, in contrast to the other times I had experienced the same thing, my calm was kept.

“Interesting you should ask.” I began confidently. “I can think of multiple reasons. First of all your next game isn’t until _next year_. I think your little Quidditch diagrams can wait.” I smiled. “Second of all, you would have to walk down hundreds of flights of stair, whereas we would have to walk _up_ them.” I declared, to my own surprise, still smiling widely.

A smile played at Oliver’s lips, he seemed to enjoy me arguing like I was the head of the Wizengamot, “I don’t see how that could be a problem, you’re in good shape.”

There was a moment of silence where Oliver held my stare admirably, determined not to let go. We both couldn’t stop grinning although it wasn’t a conversation that would normally involve grinning. It was an argument, although I didn’t find myself holding any resentment toward him. In fact, I may even have been enjoying myself quite a bit during the conversation. I could remember not too long ago when the opposite would have been far more applicable.

I held Oliver’s stare as I got up and almost left, but not before adding, “Right I almost forgot, bring Andrea as well.” With that I was off, completely forgetting to say goodbye to Alicia.

“Okay.” He muttered, his cheeky demeanour now being a thing of the past.

I was heading back to my designated table with the hum of, “You’re in good shape.” trilling in my ear. I didn’t get far however before Alicia came up beside me, looking alarmed. She pulled me to the side of the room where there were fewer students.

“Are you even aware of what just happened?” She asked me straight up.

My eyebrows met in the middle. “What did I do?” Alicia wore an expression that scared me and I began looking around the room hoping for a clue as to what I had done that was so bad.

“With Oliver!” She urged me. “It could be _interpreted_ ,” She began, and I could tell she was trying to be delicate. “…As _flirting_.” She finished.

My eyes widened in distress. “No way!” I defended. “That wasn’t flirting.” The words were an aid to convince myself, as well as Alicia.

“I’m sure you didn’t intend it to.” She assured me. “But it sure looked like it from where I was sitting.” Her eyes pitied and she seemed to understand my own lack of understanding. “Knowing you I assumed you’d been clueless to the whole thing, but it’s important you should know so that it doesn’t happen again.”

“Of course!” I said hastily. I suddenly felt ill. I thought of Andrea, whom I really liked. I didn’t want to be a person who flirted with another’s partner. I hadn’t meant to I told myself, it hadn’t been on purpose. I wanted to argue this to someone. I wanted to shout it out into the giant hall. “I hadn’t meant to flirt!”

Instead I decided upon upholding a certain degree of cautiousness in conversations involving Oliver from now on.

* * *

“Why aren’t you friends with the Hufflepuff boys?” Oliver asked, receiving a big collective sigh from the rest of us, except for the non-Hufflepuffs, which included Andrea who he was sitting next to on a couch in our common room, and Angelina, Alicia, Graham and his friends. We were a lot of people, struggling to fit.

“Why does everyone think we’re not friends with them?” I burst. “We love Griffith, Griffith is a good egg. Even a great one at times.” My teammates visibly agreed.

“Hey, Griffith!” PJ called for him to come over to us. Griffith was stood talking with some of his friends. At the mention of his name he made a big show of making his way over to us on an “air broom”, a bit of a lame thing to do, yet everyone seemed fairly amused by it.

“We were just saying we think you’re a good egg.” I told him. “Even a great one, when you follow my diagrams.”

Griffith let out a loud laugh. His laughs were always loud, so I probably shouldn’t comment on it. From now on, just assume his laughs are loud and I’ll let you know when he lets out a quiet laugh instead.

“So I’m _never_ a great egg then, is what you’re saying?” He said.

“It would appear so. But don’t fret, if I you ever shall decide to actually do what I tell you to, then it will be my first priority to promote you.” I smiled from my sitting position on the cramped couch.

“Alright, enough you two!” Angelina piped from the comfort of her own chair, putting an end to our banter. “Or Graham will get jealous.” She teased, sending Graham a smug look and earning a few “oooh’s” from the group.

I felt like burying my face in my hands, but instead I sat quietly, not wanting to say anything and not knowing what to say. _When would the comments stop?_ I thought. What had happened at the party and the aftermath, had thankfully made Bianca stop her crusade, but it had also spurred everyone else to start their own.

But instead of me having to say anything. Oliver surprisingly joined the –in lack of a better word– conversation.

“They’re just friends, honestly, when will you guys stop?” He asked, sitting now with his arm around Andrea and with a bitter expression. He appeared tired of his teammate’s antics, and I felt relieved at least that it wasn’t Alicia who had uttered the comment, with whom he had an even more strained relationship. “Boys and girls _can_ be just friends, you guys know that right?”

Angelina kept her smug expression. “I know boys and girls can be friends, I’m just saying not in this case. I mean they even kissed!” She rationalized.

“It was a dare!” Oliver erupted. “You were there!”

“Exactly. I was there. I saw that it was more than just a kiss.” Angelina looked at Graham and I while Oliver stayed quiet. She had remained calm throughout Oliver’s flare-up, an admirable trait, which I held down to being about nothing short of years and years of practise.

“Guys, you have no business talking about their relationship. It’s their private matter.” Bianca said. I glanced at her approvingly in return and we shared a smile.

* * *

Griffith decided to join in on our game night. His presence was that of a guiding angel when we all couldn’t decide what game was best suited for a company of many. As it turns out, not a lot of them are. To our salvation, Griffith knew the perfect thing. It was called Wizard’s Fez. No one of us had neither played nor heard of a game called Wizard’s Fez before tonight.

He began trying to explain the rules once he had got us all quiet, which took longer than it probably should have. We sat quietly listening to his gesticulation-rich explanation of the game. Once the explanation was over, we came back none the wiser.

“How about we jump straight into it, and you’ll learn along the way?” He finally settled on.

There was an eruption of exhilaration and the game was game.

Everyone stood and split into pairs, as instructed by Griffith. I got with PJ and we were just about to decide on a code gesture when Graham grabbed hold of Oliver’s and mine shoulders. “You think you can do this without swearing yourselves mortal enemies?” He joked.

“Maybe Will and Oliver should be on the same team for once, just to be sure?” Wright spoke.

After some debating —debating, which Oliver and I stayed out of— they decided that the risk of us fighting whilst on the same team was lower than if we would be on opposite teams. In turn, this meant that I would have to watch myself closely throughout the evening, making sure I didn’t enter any risky situation with Oliver.

“Why do they need to be on the same team, again?” Asked Andrea confused.

“Because they bicker like an old—“ Graham trailed of, seemingly having realised a mistake and there was an awkward pause before the game finally broke out.

“Do you think we’ll make it through this night without arguing?” Oliver asked me humorously.

“As long as you keep calling me by my _name_.” I said, arms crossed and brows raised.

“And by name do you mean Penderghast or Willow?” He asked with an irritating smile.

I inwardly cringed at the mention of my obnoxiously prominent surname. I presented Oliver with a scowl, telling him not to open that Pandora’s box again. He laughed at my facial expression, but we were interrupted when Griffith transfigured a cup into a fez and placed it on his head.

“I’m game leader. Now, as I told you before, it’s partly a so called ‘role-playing’ game.” He gave roles to every team. Oliver and my team were the Rotfang Conspiracy.

The more we played, the more I realised there weren’t really any rules to this game and Griffith appeared to be making it up as we went along. But Merlin, did we have fun. And fun was also the fact that things were going _really well_ for Oliver and I. Things were going so well that we were upgraded to second Wizard-Fez-officials, meaning we had the power to summon our own Aqua-Lung and could therefore pass seamlessly through Loch Lomond, allowing us to collect the first object from Chief Elfrida.

— Things were going our way, basically.

As it turned out, my quick thinking combined with Oliver’s meticulous strategies and our combined athleticism meant that we worked pretty well together. Although when Bianca pointed this out, “You’re a perfect match!” She had shouted gleefully, it didn’t land very well, and things were a bit… unbalanced, for a good while after that.

Evening turned into night and everyone had forgot about curfew, or they didn’t care. I had become significantly hungry, but I was in luck, because upon complaining about this, Griffith introduced what was called the Dance Elf Championship, and event that took place in the kitchens, to where we delightedly moved.

“Damn that delectable pumpkin juice!” I hollered after taking a sip of mine between throwing grapes into small goblets, the current task. We had just managed to earn the Pepperup Potion from Dilys Derwent, sending us _way_ ahead of the others and we had shared a high five upon our success.

Oliver threw a grape into the last goblet that was situated on top some boxes we had put up. We both cheered loudly. Not as loud as Griffith laughs — but pretty loud. “Am I your favourite person yet?” He turned to me and asked.

With a smile playing around on my face I took a bite of one of the remaining grapes, “I don’t do favourites. But for someone who usually guards a goal you sure know how to shoot.”

“That’s a yes, then!”

“That is not a yes!” I argued. “Besides, my favourite people usually at least know how to tie a tie.” I tugged at his loosely hanging tie before heading back to our base, “The Ministry”, which was really a small table with backwards standing chairs around it.

Griffith blew a whistle he had conjured about 20 minutes ago, calling for everyone’s attention. “Alriiight guys; next segment.” He took hold of a napkin and pulled out a Snitch from his pocket, holding it up for all of us to see. “It’s time for a game of Snitch-nip!” Everyone audibly groaned, yet with smiles still adorning their faces. We all knew what this would be coming to. “I will be releasing this Golden Snitch into this room.” He said dramatically once everyone had quieted. “Whoever catches it will earn a nimbus 2001 from Bowman Wright—“

Wright cheered, Bowman Wright was a distant relative of hers.

“…And can therefore fly over the forest of doom safely,” he dragged two giant cauldrons to the middle of the floor with a space between them, “without encountering any centaurs.” he placed a couple of apples on the floor in between the cauldrons. “This will give you a clear path to the wizard who holds the Diamond Fez, giving you 50 points!” He motioned at himself as he stood on the other side of the cauldrons in relation to the rest of us, looking proud.

“My question is: how the _hinkypunks_ did you get hold of a Golden Snitch?” Bianca asked, giving a voice to everyone’s question.

Griffith shrugged. “I am a chaser on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, after all.” He said ambiguously.

“I don’t condone this!” I said as loud as I could. It was a dubious thing, the matter of the presumably stolen Snitch. Snitches were expensive, and taking one from the school wasn’t the most ethical of choices. Still, in this moment I couldn’t help but find it funny. Nevertheless, we dropped the matter pretty soon as everyone were eager to get on with the game.

Everything went rapidly downhill after that.

Quentin sure made it weird when he, instead of going after the Snitch, leapt for Griffith’s head instead, in an attempt to grab his fez by force. We all had to take a moment to remind him that it was just a game, and Quentin seemed like he was waking up from a trance, unsure himself and what exactly he had just done.

On top of that, “The Muggle Liaison Office”, or Wright and Bianca for short, didn’t seem to have grasped the concept of team effort, mostly Bianca, who was currently sitting down, angrily yelling at Wright that the Snitch had been on her right, not above her.

But the point where I personally reached the bottom of the hill, when I simply wasn’t having any fun anymore, was when Oliver leaned in to whisper in my ear. We had stopped in our tracks during all the commotion caused by everyone’s hasty chase around the kitchen to catch the shimmering ball. He was telling me his plan to get us hold of the Snitch when I saw that someone else had stopped in their tracks as well as us.

Andrea caught my eye as Oliver was whispering intensely. I gave her a small smile and she smiled back, but it was faint. I realised she was feeling excluded, had been feeling excluded the entire night. More precisely, I realised that mere _caution_ wasn’t going to be a powerful enough force to not end up in these situations with Oliver.

I looked at Graham who was at the moment stood on a table, seconds away from jumping of it in an attempt to catch what was now hovering by the roof. With Graham it was different. It didn’t matter if people thought him and I were more than friends. Sure, I wished they wouldn’t think it, but the belief didn’t have any potential of hurting anyone. Such a simple gesture as a whisper in the ear could be interpreted the wrong way, but if it did, no one would be stood seven yards away, smiling faintly.

From then on I stopped playing. Actually I still played, but only on the exterior. I made it look like I was playing, but it was solely an act. I wasn’t really trying anymore. What I did try instead was to avoid Oliver as much as I could, which was a difficult feat to accomplish considering how we were on the same team. Every time he approached me, I could feel myself veer away and my eyes finding Andrea.

Our team didn’t end up catching the snitch and Oliver was disappointed. I felt sort of bad that I had stopped trying. Alicia and Angelina were the ones who finally caught it, ending up on the other side of the forest of doom to collect the final object. They didn’t end up winning though, Oliver and I did. Even with their 50 extra points Oliver and I still had collected more throughout the game. They did get to keep the snitch though, as an emblem of their endeavour.

The Rotfang Conspiracy didn’t get any emblem. When it was announced we had won I didn’t feel the excitement I had first felt at how well we were doing. I simply looked at Oliver and smiled one of those faint smiles that had scarred me. He seemed unsure of why my demeanour had changed so rapidly in the past 20 minutes, but he didn’t ask. Instead he lingered on me, privately wondering. I didn’t feel like indulging him despite having recognized his curiosity. I was tired and couldn’t even imagine that we had only begun this endless game of Wizard’s Fez a couple of hours earlier, which for the record turned out to not be a real game in the first place. At least it hadn’t been a real game until now. How could anyone get the impression we didn’t like the Hufflepuff boys when Griffith was among them?

The night was over, I realised. There was a collective feeling of anti-climax. Like the night had deserved a more grandiose ending, and not giving it would be disrespectful. But in lack of any ideas everyone sauntered off to their respective lairs, leaving all men behind.

Left was a tired Bianca, lying down on her bed without even brushing her teeth, an energetic Wright, seemingly able to go on for the rest of the night and more, and a curious PJ, wondering about the distraught Willow who currently had a lump in her stomach, thinking about nothing but Andrea.

I sat down on my four-poster, knowing that PJ was watching me meticulously. I pondered if I should bring my feelings to light. If I did bring my feelings to light, how would I phrase myself? I didn’t like talking to my friends about my feelings. It just wasn’t the type of thing I felt comfortable doing, and it was not the type of relationship I wanted us to have. I wanted us to have fun, solely. But sometimes it was necessary. Not talking to one’s friends meant not talking to anyone. That was the thing about living at Hogwarts — there was no parent to talk to, only one’s so called ‘second family’.

“Do you guys…” I said, or more like croaked. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Did you guys…” I had everyone’s attention by now. “You didn’t think I made Andrea feel excluded?” Damn this was hard saying. “…Do you?” My voice was pretty meek toward the end of the sentence.

“Yes.” PJ answered honestly. “I think you did.” She smiled a sorrowful smile. “But I don’t think it was solely your fault.” She continued. PJ got up and sat down on the bed next to me. The only sounds came from the rain on the window that had since yesterday replaced the previous snowy weather and the rasping wheeze of Wright’s toothbrush against her teeth as she stood watching the scene.

“It was mostly Oliver’s fault.” PJ declared decisively. “He has this way of never realising what he’s doing.” she said bitterly. “And I think that if he had realised, he would have… modified his behaviour slightly.”

“I don’t know PJ, he seemed pretty content whispering tenderly into Willow’s ear time after time.” Bianca twirled around on her bed and smiled smugly, to PJ’s discontent.

PJ gave Bianca a disapproving look. “You’re not exactly helping.”

“You have to admit he does seem a little… _smitten_ with Willow here.” Bianca contended and Wright suddenly felt the need to flee away to the bathroom with her toothbrush still in her mouth.

“He has a girlfriend, Bianca.” PJ said firmly to Bianca, but she chose to ignore it.

I sat plucking at the hairs on my legs, not wanting to look any of them in the eye. “I don’t feel like a Hufflepuff right now.” I said, sounding childish. But they were my true feelings. Our houses mattered to us, and I knew I wasn’t alone in it. We did everything to make sure our sorting was warranted, and that everyone around us experienced us accordingly. It was about wanting that feeling of inclusion.

“Heey! Willow.” PJ stopped me. “You didn’t _mean_ to make her feel… excluded.” She put a hand on my shoulder and I still didn’t look up from my legs. “You and Oliver were just… having fun, and that’s okay. You’re allowed to have fun.”

“Don’t worry Willow.” Bianca piped feebly but sympathetically from her bed.

But no matter what PJ or Bianca told me, I had seen Andrea’s look. If she was going to keep giving me those looks whenever Oliver and I had fun, then fun just wasn’t fun anymore. I promised myself instead that I would leave them alone for the most part, since I found it was the only thought I could do right now that didn’t make my stomach sting.

At least now my friends seemed to believe Oliver and I were friends, my only worry was of them thinking that the scale tipped a little too heavily in that direction.

* * *

**21 November 2018**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like/dislike anything about this chapter? Please let me know!


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

I had gotten quite good at the art of avoiding Oliver as I had spent more time than what might be considered healthy doing so. Yet it was distinctly harder now that we were officially friends. What made it even harder than a normal amount of hard was that the more I avoided him, all the more difficult it became. Everyday was like entering a new level, with a faster pace and auxiliary obstacles. The Gryffindor captain wasn’t known to back down easily, and so I suffered.

When he called for me in hallways I pretended not to hear. When he and Andrea came up to me after classes I would keep the conversation concise. When he had booked a practise right after mine I had to hurry to the locker rooms before his team got to the pitch. When he came up to the Hufflepuff table to tell me about whatever ridiculous escapade Flint had got up to this time, I had to lie and say I was in a hurry for Defence Against the Dark Arts.

The less I spoke when we saw each other, the more we instead saw of each other. It was like I was throwing a stone into the abyss and the abyss threw three more back me in return.

What bothered me more was that I couldn’t help but worry about the day when he would finally back down. The fact was, every time I failed to avoid him, my day got a little bit better. I _wanted_ to talk to him after class when he would sit on one of the desks with his bag hung loosely around his shoulder. I wanted to hear what Flint had done, not because I cared all that much, but because it was coming from his mouth, and I would get to hear his incessant rambles about conduct and rules in Quidditch, which Flint was intransigent to. They were things the public might consider below average qualities in a person, but I had come to adore, strangely enough.

My feeble attempts only degenerated further when I met Andrea and Oliver together in a hallway on my way outside for Care of Magical Creatures.

I was distinctly warm. The weather outside was raw and I had dressed accordingly. Taking care of Mackled Malaclaws in icy rain called for precautions if one didn’t want to lose any fingers in the process. I was already at risk of losing fingers from the sharp bite of the little creatures. I didn’t need another incentive that would accentuate the already existing hazard.

“The Rotfang Conspiracy!” Oliver greeted me with a solid high five.

“Here to conspire some conspiracies and advent some adventures!” Andrea added.

I smiled and greeted their lightly dressed selves in comparison to me. “For a group of mostly Quidditch players we sure had a _hard time_ catching that shiny little Nogtail.”

There was a moment of silence, which I normally would have filled with some commonplace chit-chat, something I had learned Oliver was no good at. Even disregarding that fact, he still seemed too busy fixing his hair to even realise the situation. I was not to engage in commonplace chit-chat now though. I had sworn off that sort of thing a long time ago (last week to be exact). But who needs to be exact? Life was full of hyperboles and understatements.

“Alright! Anyway,” I began, looking awkwardly everywhere but at them, starting over my shoulder and concluding straight down the hallway where I was headed. “Class starts in a couple of minutes, I’ll be late if I don’t head off now.” I said, leaving before we could say our goodbyes. My pulse soared thinking of the next time I would talk to him again, seeing as I wasn’t exactly sure if I would. Our acquaintance wasn’t exactly known to be constant and reliable. It felt oddly similar to balancing a very slippery object on another even more slippery and also small object.

“Will!” Called Oliver’s voice from beside me. He actually managed to calm my heartbeat for once.

“…ow.” He finished lamely, diverting his eyes. He stopped beside me and I continued walking. I did have a lesson to get to, no matter if I genuinely was late for it or not.

“Hello again, Oliver.” I said warily.

“Hi.” He dragged a hand subconsciously through his hair, to my delight turning it into that charmingly ruffled style that was his specialty. “Christmas is coming up.” He said, taking me off guard.

“Yes. Why?” I said, even warier than before.

“Not sure why.” He said, copying my very wariest demeanour. “Muggle logic.”

I rolled my eyes. “I meant why do you bring this up?”

“Well, there’s some sort of gift giving element to Christmas.” He said, like this had only recently come to his attention.

“That damned muggle logic, am I right?” I interjected sarcastically.

“Yes, and, I was wondering if you could help me with it.” He once again flattened his hair, causing me a surge of annoyance. “It’s the sort of thing a friend would do, right?” He smiled proudly, looking like he was hoping for me to validate our friendship once again. “And you are my friend.” It was half of a statement and half of a question, making a whole confused me.

“Of course!” I immediately returned. He smiled back at me with a hand mindlessly in his hair. I wondered if taking his hand to stop his steadily increasing obsessive behaviour, would fall on the spectrum of the sort of thing a friend would do.

“Good.” He replied. We settled in silence and he walked by my side. We kept walking quietly for what shortly turned into a long while. Which I have to say I _loved_. I don’t think I loved walking in silence with anyone as much as I did with Oliver. Nevertheless I did wonder if he didn’t have someplace to be right now other than walking with me in the complete opposite direction of anywhere I could imagine he should be heading.

His hand unintentionally brushed against mine as we walked, as hands often do. I thought about making a joke about him trying to hold my hand. The problem however with that joke is that it’s only funny the first time, the rest of the time you’re just two people scraping hands without any jokes left to be made.

“Then maybe we should go to Hogsmeade this weekend.” Oliver quipped, breaking the adored quiet.

I kept looking at my shoes. I kept walking ahead, unsure of what to say. The clock ticked by, gaining me unwanted pressure to say something by the second. But I didn’t know what to say. Should I lie or should I just do this one thing? I had technically already promised him I would.

“I have a meeting scheduled with Roger.” I said, still only looking in the direction of my shoes moving up and down with each step.

“That’s still going on?” Oliver said abruptly, it came out like a snarl. I could tell he hadn’t meant for it to, as he regained a somewhat composed demeanour not long after the statement had been stated, but by then all the ships had already sailed. “You’re still tutoring him?” Oliver rephrased calmly.

“Well yeah, he isn’t going home for Christmas on Friday either so we scheduled our next session for Saturday–“

“Great! Then we’ll go to Hogsmeade afterward!” Oliver rejoiced.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere, Oliver? Like, right now?” I asked tentatively, doing my best to change the subject. Yet he didn’t seem to notice I had said anything, he seemed to be thinking.

“You know what would be even better?” He began, sounding, to my scepticism, highly assured. “If I _joined_ , and then afterward, _we_ could go to Hogsmeade.” He motioned between us.

“Oliver.” I put a hand on his shoulder; surprised he didn’t falter or react physically in any way. “I am completely certain of this: You _cannot_ join my study sessions with Roger.”

He seemed to think this through. “Okay. I see.” He said in his most reasonable tone.

I took my hand off his shoulder and said my awaited goodbye.

“I hope your tutoring goes well!” Oliver called after me. He really liked shouting at me when I was several meters away and had already declared conversations to be over. It had come to my attention recently that he also liked laying on a tone of, what I knew to be, fake positivity and enthusiasm. Which was odd, but nice, I decided, even if it was fake.

“Amazing! What a great sport you are!” I shouted back sarcastically, imitating his enthusiasm. “I hope it goes well too!”

* * *

 It didn’t, it really didn’t — go well that is.

The truth of it was, we hadn’t been meeting all that often, Roger and I. It had been kind of brief, an hour here, 20 minutes there. But when we did meet, I found it valuable. We’d talk for a bit and he’d be really sweet, he’d actually get some work done, and most important, _I_ would get work done. I found that I worked efficiently with him by my side. Maybe it was just the influence of being around a hard working person.

Initially, this time had been no different. He’d been sweet, he’d complimented me exorbitantly, and he’d listened to me intently. I felt great, I felt ambitious, like someone saw me fit to impart wisdom.

Roger took a bite of his carrot and a glance at me and I remembered that he might not be here for that purpose at all if I were to trust my friends’ ideas.

He threw his hands up and around the backrest of the library chair. “Say Willow, would you ever want to go on a date with me?”

And there it was, the hard-hitting proof to the conjecture. Still, I found myself stumped, mostly at how casual he was about it. At the present moment he was even flipping through his copy of _Goshawk's Guide to Herbology_ , like he wasn’t even awaiting a reply. Had he forgotten he’d just asked me a question?

“To Hogsmeade?” I asked.

He kept flipping the pages for a short while until he’d found his designated page, then slowly lifted his gaze to me and bit his lip in thought. “Uhh, I was thinking the Quidditch pitch maybe?” he raised his eyebrows in question, letting me ponder this for a moment.

I took a moment to visualize what that would look like, but my stomach soon told me it was not a good idea. I let out a mental breath, preparing myself for the awkward conversation that was about to go down.

“That’s very sweet Roger, but I’m not interested. But… thanks.” _Do I thank him?_

Roger’s eyebrows furrowed, he looked surprised and his arm retrieved to the same location it had held a moment ago, around the backrest. His whole demeanour secreted a confidence that one would think clashed with the reality of the situation he was currently in. “Are you sure?” He asked kindly.

I laughed even though I felt a little curious about his behaviour, “Yes I’m sure.”

“But why?” He pushed, to my astonishment. His position in his chair had changed; suddenly he displayed eagerness and curiosity. It was one thing to have the courage to ask someone out, but to question their reasoning was another level of confidence, I might even go so far as to say it bordered on conceit.

Growing discontent with his behaviour I replied with a hint of annoyance, “Like I said, I’m not interested in you in that way.” I returned to the paper ahead of me on the table, the pen was in my hand and I wanted to write something as a clear indication that the conversation was over.

But Roger didn’t want to stop conversing. “Are you a lesbian?” he asked, nearly sucking my whole breath out of me.

I stared at him, thinking of a reply. The longer I stared at this curious expression the angrier I got. How could a person be so arrogant? My pen started shaking in my hand at the nervousness from the confrontational interaction, combined with seething anger.

He was chewing loudly on his carrot. Somehow the fact that he was chewing loudly seemed to only add insult to injury in that moment. If you ever want to know how entitled a person is, look at how they chew. Some people chew like they have nothing to be ashamed of. Often men. Men have this fundamental confidence the rest of us are not granted with. They chew like they have every right in the world. Like they should be listened to. Like the rest of us should kiss the ground they walk upon. Marcus Flint also chewed like this.

“Is it that hard to believe I’m not interested in you?” I finally spat. “That the only _possible_ explanation is incapability of attraction to the male gender? Because if a girl isn’t innately attracted to a man she must be a lesbian?”

Roger’s eyes went wide and he seemed to finally realise that he wasn't universally loved. His took his arm off the backrest and placed it in his lap. “I was just curious.” He defended meekly, looking down at his paper and putting an end to the conversation finally.

As one could imagine, Roger Davies left soon after that and left me sitting alone. I briefly went over what had just happened in my head before I stood up to go look for Oliver and ask if we could head to Hogsmeade early, now that I was tutoring no more. I went over the event again on my way, thinking of things I could have said when Roger had got up to leave, like a sarcastic “Are you sure you don’t want any extra help on that War of the Roses essay?” making fun of the fact that he evidently had never gone to the sessions with an intent to learn anything from me, or maybe just a simple, “Sod off, you entitled prick.”

But I didn’t get very far, in fact I didn’t get any further than the entrance to the library, before I found Oliver sitting on the floor outside.

“What are you doing?” I asked. My voice came out a lot gloomier than what I had thought reflected my mood. Apparently the Roger thing had got to me.

Oliver looked up, his looking up and finding me standing there made him jump to his feet quicker than light. “Are you already done?” He asked, but before I could reply he flew off into other musings, “If you are wondering why I am just sitting here it is because I didn’t have anything to do before we had arranged our date— meet! I mean our meet.” Oliver trembled off and his attention disappeared to the stone walls of the corridor awkwardly, before he regained his composure again, “Anyway and so I, _with no thought whatsoever_ to the fact that you would obviously be in the library with Roger studying—“

“Tutoring.” I corrected him.

“Right, _tutoring_.” He corrected himself quickly and continued the story, “I went here to see if I could study myself, but upon arriving I was reminded that you would be here, and you had told me to not disturb you guys during your session, and so without any better idea I sat down here to wait, figuring it was no use bothering to do something else, considering you guys would be done before I would have time to get anywhere.” Oliver took a deep breath.

“Anyway,” his face took a more playful expression, “Did the tutoring go well?” he asked with that same mocking tendency everyone else carried at the mention of me tutoring Roger. I was beginning to find it condescending, yet I knew they had right to mock it. Roger had never wanted my help, they all knew it and the idea was humorous to them.

I went to slump down against the stone wall the way Oliver had been located before his incessant description of his morning. The corridor was poorly lit and had no windows, even during a sunny day this hallway appeared like the middle of the night.

Oliver hesitantly sat down next to me. “Did the tutoring go well?” He asked again, although this time his voice lacked the mock attitude and instead he sounded concerned.

“No. It did not go well.” I pronounced every syllable, hoping it would translate how badly it had gone.

Pause.

“Alright.” He said matter-of-factly. “Do you wish to explain what happened?”

“He asked me out.” I said flatly. I felt myself getting emotional. “Do you think I’m incompetent?” I asked sulkily.

Oliver ignored my question, “Did you say yes?”

I looked down at my hands angrily, “ _No_ , and when I didn’t he seemed to think I was incapable of attraction toward the male gender.”

Oliver pondered that for a while then asked, “Why would I think you’re incompetent?”

“I don’t know if you have noticed this, but I don’t exactly do well in school. I draw Quidditch diagrams instead of essays.” I said sulkily.

“At least they’re good Quidditch diagrams.” He said encouragingly. When I didn’t reply he hesitantly pulled himself so that he was facing me, he looked down on the ground as if debating something in his head before looking at me and opening his mouth, “Do you remember that day when you came over to the Gryffindor table and I was in a bit of a quarrel with Alicia?” He asked.

“Vividly.” I replied.

“Well, what happened before you arrived… was Alicia had said that witnessing you kissing a Slytherin was the most impressive thing she’d ever seen you do.” Oliver suddenly found that stone wall from before very interesting again. “And I, failing to realise she had been making a joke—“

“As per usual.” I said in jest.

“Right…” He continued, “Anyway, I had got a bit flustered about it, and had made some remarks on other things I’d seen you do, that I deemed to be more impressive. This, of course, all happened before I had realised she’d been joking, but it nevertheless spiralled into a conversation between us on possible Quidditch related things Alicia could work on, and this had caused her outrage at me.” Oliver took a quick glance at me between his wall staring before he decided it was okay to meet my gaze again. “What I’m saying is just that I don’t find you incompetent at all, and I am frequently impressed by you. Although I agree that you don’t seem great at academics, you do have talents in other things.” He smiled.

I couldn’t help but be intrigued, “What is something I have done that impressed you?”

Oliver took a moment to think this through, “There was that time when Flint was trying to provoke you, and you held your fort valiantly.” A small laugh escaped him, “I loved seeing him failing to provoke someone, because even though Flint is a definite incompetent person, he does know how to provoke, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him fail so brilliantly at it.” Oliver looked proudly at me and I felt assured in that moment that maybe I wasn’t so bad after all. It was a nice feeling.

“Albeit you don’t really keep your temper around me.” Oliver added smugly.

I felt obliged to agree and said funnily, “Yeah, but you’re special.”

A more vulnerable expression anchored itself on Oliver’s features then, “I’m special?” He asked gently.

We looked at each other for a second and when Oliver realised that I wasn’t intending to answer him he moved on,

“As your friend,” He began, not quite believing in the term himself, “I am going to assure you that school is not your strength, but you do have strengths, and I think that anyone who spends time with you can see them as clear as day.” He hesitated, “And I will also offer you something in this time of grief.”

And then Oliver moved slightly closer to me on the rock hard floor, stretched out his arms toward me and moved slowly toward me to make sure I could back out the second I wanted. He put his arms around me gently in a hug.

Never in my life had a hug made me feel that much, if anything. I tried to sniff Oliver’s scent without him noticing before he retracted awkwardly.

It was an awkward hug, but from Oliver, I never expected or wanted anything else.

“Hogsmeade?” He asked before I would try and thank him or make it awkward.

I nodded my head and we departed the dimly lit corridor side by side, walking in silence.

* * *

**21 November 2018**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like/dislike anything about this chapter? Please let me know!


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

The shiny bottles reflected themselves in Oliver’s eyes while he searched meticulously the shelves for the perfect perfume bottle.

We were in one of the shops in Hogsmeade I rarely entered, in fact I had only entered it once before and it was to buy a perfume, seeing as that is what they sold. I gazed out at the discontinuously sized bottles in various bright colours and spotted my own at the top left on the shelves.

Oliver and I were the only customers. It was quiet and musky in there and the shop owner, an older lady, was eyeing us from behind the counter, surrounded by the dark wood that made up the whole interior. The shop was on the rougher side of quaint, one could say.

Feeling watched I turned my head and saw that the lady was still eyeing us with what she seemed to deem as stealth. With some poorly veiled urgency I declared, “You know you’re going to have to smell one at some point, they’re not decorations.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. Completely clueless to the lady behind the counter he carefully picked a bottle and endearingly lifted it to his nose to try to feel its scent from the sprayer.

I sighed loud and excessively. “You need to spray it on something and _then_ smell it.” I grinned despite myself.

However Oliver neglected to spray the perfume anywhere, instead he was eyeing me closely and I felt myself growing restless. I wanted out of this shop as soon as possible and I felt like Oliver was not ready to cooperate.

To my surprise he then stepped closer to me with a focused expression. Once the close proximity was reached he carefully lifted my arm and sprayed an equally carefully selected spot on my wrist with the perfume. I looked on dazedly while my wrist was moved until mere millimetres from Oliver’s nose and he lingered over it for a moment before he took in the scent. I refused to blink as I watched him consider the scent.

“Well that’s not it.” He said. With his hands on his hips he retrieved to his meticulous study of the perfume bottles on the wall.

My throat was so thick I thought it better to let his comment linger in the musky room than give him a strained reply.

Once my voice has been regained I uttered, “You’re not going to find a perfume for your girlfriend by staring at them. Why don’t you just smell as many as you can until you find one you like?” I suggested innocently, not necessarily hoping he would touch any other of my body parts, but also not condemning such an occurrence.

Oliver tore his attention from the shelf and looked at me with newfound determination. He instinctively grabbed a random bottle and strode back to my henceforth blissful but disoriented self, as Oliver took hold of perfume after perfume and sprayed them on numerous places on my arms and smelled me time after time. It soon became a comical activity and we both found ourselves exhibiting giddy behaviour. Thoughts of ladies behind counters were far-gone by then.

“None of these are good,” he said, “Maybe it’s just you I’m smelling?” He quipped and I slapped his arm in annoyance.

After not long though, Oliver had begun to run out of places to spray me and he searched my arms for a spot he might have missed. With lack of other options his eyes travelled upward slowly until they landed on my neck. I stood frozen as I watched him make his decision. All I could hear was the sound of my heavy breath and Oliver clicking the perfume bottle, letting out a fresh scent and letting the tiny specks of liquid cover my neck. Oliver looked almost frightened as he leaned in and placed his nose near my highly sensitive skin, his hair brushed against my jaw and I closed my eyes briefly.

“Noo, that’s not it…” He mumbled, still close to my skin. After, to my enjoyment, having lingered a second longer than what he would have had to, he retrieved back to eyeing the selection.

He proceeded to spray my collarbone, then my other collarbone and just as I was praying for him to never stop smelling me, I noticed a shift in Oliver’s demeanour. He perked up suddenly and moved his nose up my neck. A tingly sensation erupted in my body. Oliver retreated and pointed to my upper neck, “Which one was this?” He asked.

“Umm…” I said and fingered the different bottles until I found a curvy green one, “This, I think.”

Oliver sprayed it in the air, for once, and took in the scent. But he remained apathetic. It didn’t seem to be the one he had felt when he perked up. “No, it smelled sort of like coconut or something.”

My eyes went wide right then as I remembered the perfume in the far left corner. I was about to tell Oliver that it was just the perfume I had put on earlier that morning and not one of the ones we had tried today, but I was reminded that putting on perfume to see a friend could be interpreted in a non-friendly way, and I thought better of it.

Oliver’s eyes fell upon my neck once more and he approached me curiously once again. He placed his hand on the back of my neck this time and softly pulled me toward him and his nose. Oliver stayed like that, reflecting for a moment. Just as I was beginning to think he might have fallen asleep Oliver cleared his throat and whispered, voice not quite strong enough to emit clear sounds, “See, I like this one…” I felt his breath on my skin, “Which one could it have been?”

Feeling too proud to admit to Oliver that I had put on perfume on this particular day, and worried Oliver might connect the dots himself did I not hand him the information he wanted, I pointed to the top left on the shelf and said, “Maybe this one?” Inwardly cringing at my awfully feigned casualty.

He smoothly took hold of the perfume bottle on the top left and felt it in his hands, beginning to consider me. Completely out of places to spray me he settled for my forehead, “Close your eyes.” He said and I winced only slightly when the liquid hit my face. My eyes were still closed when Oliver closed in.

After all the perfume confusion I felt a strong need to make myself appear apathetic toward the whole situation, “Why couldn’t you just spray yourself with perfume?” I asked, acting as though it’d been a huge inconvenience to me.

“Because it’s women’s perfume, obviously.” He said absentmindedly.

Having thought I might get a similar response to this I immediately fired back, “And that’s degrading to you?”

This took Oliver off guard and he stumbled for words, “Well, no…”

“That’s right, asshole.” I said and took the bottle from his hand and sprayed him with it in an act of inflicting punishment.

Oliver broke into a wide smile. He had a tendency to do this, to haphazardly go from being somewhat expressionless to a wide smile, coming seemingly out of nowhere.

With the same wide smile Oliver took the perfume back from me and left to go and pay, holding tightly onto it. I let myself smile as well, but delicately and to myself.

* * *

Later that day, after a well deserved shower to get all the perfume off me and a wildly anticlimactic evening in the Slytherin common room with my friends, (“But where are the dragons and the torture devices?”) We were just passing by the Great Hall to grab some snacks we could bring upstairs for an early night when we ran into Andrea, who looked her usual gleeful self and came up and hugged me upon spotting us, my friends leaving me behind outside the entrance,

“Happy Christmas!” She exulted. To my immediate heartache the air around her whirled into my nose as she embraced me and the scent of coconut was unmistakable. _He’d already given it to her?_

“Actually, you can’t officially say that until tomorrow.” I joked once she’d released me.

Andrea put on some fake assertiveness and said; “Last time I checked Christmas Eve is also an appropriate time to greet someone using that phrase.”

“You do make a very good point there and I will take it into consideration.” I gave in with a light-hearted smile, but Andrea’s expression had turned solemn at that point and she was gazing thoughtfully at the floor, not quite paying attention anymore.

“You smell nice.” I said to try and draw her back to me.

Andrea tore her distant gaze and met my eyes again, “Thank you!” She said, aiming for that trademark enthusiasm of hers but not quite getting there. I was torn by her change of attitude and I found myself struggling to remain carefree.

“It was from Oliver.” She smiled half-heartedly, “Yeah, he said he couldn’t wait to give me my present, said he wanted to smell it on me.” She nodded, a little too heavily.

“That is so lovely.” I tried, but I felt my voice coming out as fake as hers at this point. The truth was, it hurt. It had hurt seeing Oliver trying so ambitiously to pick out the exact right gift for his loved one, who was not me. I finally had to face the fact that I wanted Oliver. I wanted him to care about me that much. But I was just his perfume tester and that was it.

The giant door opened from the Great Hall and my friends came out carrying snacks to last us the rest of the night. Andrea disappeared as fast as she had arisen after that.

I managed the walk to the dormitories without my friends noticing that anything was up. I wasn’t saying much but I managed to seem like I simply didn’t have anything to add. I even managed an encounter with Griffith in the common room where he wanted to talk Quidditch, but I managed to seem casual and like I just wasn’t really up for it. I managed that whole 30 minutes or so of using every ounce of my being to try and not care.

It was when Wright closed the door to our dormitory that I just couldn’t take it anymore. I laid down motionless with my stomach flat on my bed, staring at the miniscule specks of cotton that made up the sheet as tears started silently trickling down my cheek.

Everything was silent, a nice relief from what the Slytherin common room had been like during that hour or so we spent there. My ears rang from the strain that had been on them throughout the day and I laid there in silence. The whole room was silent.

“Are you okay Willow?” Said Wright softly. That was when I realised that the silence I had taken so much pleasure in, had been somewhat of a suspicious one. The room had been silent for a reason and I suddenly felt very watched as the tears trickled.

“No.” I shakily said and wiped the tears off my face in a swift motion, causing my whole face to now feel soaked instead of the clear little lanes of moisture that had been.

PJ sat down on my bed behind where I was facing, I couldn’t see her but I also didn’t want to move. Wright, the daring one, decided to sit down next to me on the bed. Bianca remained at a distance, clutching the four-poster column in her arm.

Wright began to wipe my tears softly. I never understood how people decided to wipe someone else’s tears, do they also wipe other people's saliva?

But my thoughts of body liquids didn’t keep me distracted for long and my thoughts would soon return to Oliver and Andrea.

“I’m not very good at Herbology.” I said.

“You’re not… _terrible_ at Herbology.” Wright insisted uncertainly.

“Andrea is better.” I said sulkily.

“Is that surprising?” Wright asked, and there was a murmur around the room, the rest of the company gave her looks that said ‘we are trying to help this situation right now and you are having the opposite effect.’

Nevertheless my words seemed to have caused a general realisation in the room of what might be going on, what unearthly event had left Willow motionlessly crying on her bed.

“Do you? …” PJ began, “Have feelings for Oliver, Will?” She asked cautiously.

At my lack of answer Bianca decided this might be her cue to start speculating, “I mean something’s obviously going on, one conversation with his girlfriend and you are the biggest mess I’ve ever seen you. And lets face it — it wasn’t Davies that made her put on perfume this morning.” She gave the others a meaningful look.

Despite my grief I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at Bianca and the corners of my mouth almost twitched into the faintest smile.

“And then again after that shower.” Wright added knowingly.

I decided it was time for me to step in and defend myself, “I wasn't even seeing Oliver after the shower! Can't we exist in a universe where I smell nice for myself and no one else?” I kept wiping my tears, with more force this time.

“Oh, so it was for _Graham_ then is what you're saying?” Bianca teased.

I couldn't help but muster a faint laugh with the rest of the company at that. At this point I knew Bianca was kidding, she no longer mythicised about Graham and I being a pair.

I was able to hold the smile for a second or two before the corners of my mouth fell, along with my thoughts back to Oliver. “Yes. I do have the feelings for Oliver.” I said simply. “They suck.” It felt oddly good telling them, but it lasted only a moment until I started thinking of all the reasons Oliver would never be interested in me.

“I feel like I’m boring.” I said.

PJ hugged me from behind. “Why would you ever feel like you’re boring, Will?” Feeling like she might have a clue as to what I might be feeling she went on, “I mean yes you don’t drink or party in the same way as we do, but you are probably the least boring one of us.”

“I mean you’re in love with Oliver Wood, you’re obviously insane.” Wright said, and added, “Being insane is not boring.”

“Not only are you in love with Oliver, but Oliver is obviously in love with you too.” PJ started.

“Hey! When I tried to tell you this the other day you shot me down!” Bianca burst at PJ and earned a hard sigh from her,

“Yeah I know I did, but let's face it Oliver seems kind of whipped for Will and it’s almost too obvious.” PJ admitted. “So not only are you special enough to be in love with that _lunatic_ , but you are also interesting enough to tear Oliver’s attention away from Quidditch!”

“He did disregard his Quidditch diagrams that night to play Wizard’s Fez with me.” I said in a voice plagued by my sobs. “And you guys as well obviously.” I felt inclined to add.

Wright huffed, “Yeah, I’m sure Oliver gave up his Quidditch diagrams because he wanted to hang out with his close friends Bianca, PJ and I with whom he has had like three conversations with in his lifetime.” She said sarcastically.

The room fell quiet, as I was unsure of how to respond.

“And it's true, you aren’t great at academics, but you are _brilliant_ at other things, Quidditch being the main one.” Bianca said positively and hugged my ankle with her hand.

I sat up slowly, “So you don’t think I’m boring and useless?” I asked tentatively one last time.

Wright smiled warmly, “You led us to a victory against Gryffindor, Will, you are far from useless.”

Deciding not to interject with my usual counter comment I instead silently agreed with my friends and took an oath to believe their words and henceforth shut down my brain’s words that told me things that contradicted that.

Bianca crossed her arms in a resolute manner, “And I am telling you this Willow, Oliver is not going to stay with Andrea for long. Or perhaps more likely — Andrea won’t stay with him for long. When they inevitably leave each other, sooner or later, you will be Oliver’s top priority.”

The others nodded in agreement and my chest felt a little lighter when I, an hour later or so, after having enjoyed some good food with my close friends, went to bed.

* * *

**26 November 2018**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like/dislike anything about this chapter? Please let me know!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter

**Chapter 20**

Christmas day — what a joyous occasion! At least that is what I tried to convince myself. The truth was I could barely drag myself out of bed. More accurately — I couldn’t drag myself out of bed at all, Bianca had to forcefully pull me at my ankles. Why the least athletic out of all of us took this task upon herself was a query beyond my expertise. Props to her though, she did a hell of a good job and only disregarded me be once I was lying, hair spread out in all directions, on the cold and rigid floor. It felt oddly good being taken care of like that, even if it was in a rather callous manner. I spared a moment imagining what it would be like if I had someone to do that for me every day, but that thought lead me into alleys I dared not enter, for they were dark and contained people I should not be imagining doing anything.

“I think she might be imagining Oliver again.” PJ said then, they had all gathered in a circle around me, like they were examining a patient.

“SSHHHH!” I uttered as sternly as I could. “Oliv– _That person_ does not exist.” I looked at each and every one of them individually, “The person I was imagining–“ I shook my head as if to reset myself, “The person _you suggested_ I was imagining, does as of now not exist anymore. You will refer to him as not at all, and we will all do our very best to avoid his very stupid face until further notice.” I concluded.

They all gave their own versions of sighs and eye rolls, etcetera, and Bianca pulled me upward so that we could, minutes later, make our way down to breakfast.

“Awfully quiet in here.” PJ said.

She was right, the common room was always quiet on Christmas day. Most people were up early and excited about the day to come, in particular, the massive feast that was breakfast, lunch and dinner.

We could hear the wind breaking against the rattling windows, looking out, we saw that today was yet another dull and windy, snowless day. The weather wouldn’t be any different despite the fact that it was Christmas. It was almost as if the weather didn’t care. I sure didn’t, I liked all days as long as they weren’t hot. Hot days are awful to play Quidditch in, hot and sticky with thick air on top. I wanted brisk and cool weather. I wanted to be woken up by the air biting my cheeks, and today was a perfect day for that.

“Anyone up for a game of Quidditch later?” I asked enthusiastically.

“Sure.” They chimed.

“But first breakfast!” PJ said, and tore me away from the window. I’d been the last one standing, entranced by the beautiful grass.

People had been tearing at me all morning and I wondered if I was perhaps feeling somewhat resistant to seeing other students today, in particular one specific student.

“She’s thinking about Oliver again.” Said Bianca as she was opening the circular shaped door to the inevitable unknown that was awaiting outside.

“Oliver doesn’t exist.” PJ reminded Bianca.

“Oliver!” I was shocked to see him standing just on the other side of the door, acting as the perfect actualization of my unknown outside the door.

Wright made a show of looking but not seeing anything, “No, I don’t see anything.” She joked and I shot her an unimpressed glance to say that the moment of further notice had arrived and she didn’t still have to pretend that Oliver didn’t exist as that might come off as a little rude considering how he was standing right outside our door. My telepathy skills were a bit rusty but I tried my best to communicate all of this to her with my masterful glance.

At a loss for what to say, combined with my friends’ curious expressions as to what was going to happen next in this little show that was Willow and Oliver I haphazardly asked, “Did Andrea like her present?” To get him to at least say something and not just stand there, looking unsure and little bit scared.

But activity was the antithesis of what actually happened, and only after a long moment of silence while Oliver was choosing his words and my friends kept staring and I kept hoping, hoping that Oliver was carrying some kind of news that would benefit me in some way, did he actually say something,

“To say that she didn’t would be a vast understatement.” Oliver finally said and I _really_ didn’t want to smile, I _really_ wanted to remain with that questioning expression I had been wearing, instead of seeming to somehow benefit out of this seemingly sticky situation both Andrea and Oliver were in (judging by the sound of Oliver’s tone of voice combined with sub textual hints one could piece together from his wording, simply by being a human being). I really didn’t want to do all this at all, but I somehow couldn’t help a small tug at the side of my lips. It was minor though, and one could still pray he hadn’t noticed or alternatively peg it down to being a result of his funny way to put it, some kind of dark comedy.

I wasn’t answering Oliver and he sort of just remained outside the entrance in some kind of in-between state of half interacting with the group, and half being on the other side of the wall that was separating us.

“Do you want to come in?” I finally asked and Oliver looked around at my friends as if first wanting to know if they were staying.

“I don’t think you have much of a choice in that, Will.” Wright once again inappropriately joked, “He has our password, remember?”

“If that’s what you like to call it.” Oliver surprisingly threw back and I couldn’t help a full spread smile forming on my lips while also at the same time be kind-of-definitely-supposedly very attracted to him suddenly. I did something risky and pulled Oliver through the door by the wrist. To my luck, Oliver did not resist and gladly followed my pulls.

“Can you guys please leave?” I told my friends, and without a second thought they said their goodbyes and left to finally go down for breakfast, leaving me as the last person who still hadn’t left our common room that morning, not that I was complaining.

I dragged Oliver along to a couch and put him on one end of it, and myself on the other.

“Comfy.” He said awkwardly.

“Your feeble compliments are an insult to that couch.” I said and leaned back on the armrest, awaiting Oliver’s explanation as to what was going on and why he was knocking (without the actual knock) on my door this early in the morning.

“She said she thought it might be coming to this.” Oliver blurted out.

“Andrea?” I asked before I’d had a chance to feign some kind of self-salvaging ignorance and I regretted it immediately.

Oliver nodded.

“Coming to what exactly?” I questioned further with a possibly perpetual hint of annoyance directed at Oliver for the sake of concealing my true feelings, as per usual.

Oliver’s body was tense as he said it, “A break up.” He looked at me with that same freight he had worn by the door earlier and I realised I should probably go easy on him today, even if that meant I couldn’t salvage myself and my true feelings quite as easily.

I shifted in my seat, “How come she reckoned that?”

Shift

Shift

“Well…” This time Oliver was the one to shift and he seemed to be struggling to find the right words as he kept shifting on that dirty-yellow couch. Multiple times he looked as if he was going to begin saying something, only to falter. “It was about the perfume I bought her.”

That quickened my pulse immediately.

“I never noticed it, but she seemed to have...” He continued.

My pulse was raging and my palms were sweaty. I cursed how small of a couch this was and how close Oliver felt despite how he was sitting on the other end. He looked deeply into my eyes as he said the next part,

“It’s the same one you have. The same one you always wear.”

I quite visibly gulped and in a moment of weakness I let my eyes drift to his lips only for a second. It’s quite amazing how humans can detect such small signals as that. Even though my signal hadn’t been intentional, and if I could take it back I probably would have in that moment. But Oliver had caught it along with some newfound confidence in the process. He did what I would have never dared to do, he moved even closer. We had been, what I deemed to be close, just moments before this, but this was ‘unacceptably’ close, if you will. Although for some reason I wanted him closer.

“That doesn’t have to mean anything.” I whispered, as if trying to assure him for his sake, that I didn’t take this as anything that meant anything, while inside desperately wanting it to mean something.

Oliver smiled self-consciously, a smile I could see very clearly as I was currently located under a painfully close proximity to that very smile. “What if I told you that it does mean something?” And with just one finger, he moved my hair and tucked it behind my ear. 

 _How did he suddenly become this confident? Was there something about my exterior that told him that I was into it?_ I had just cast the thought when I realised that I was in fact currently still looking at his lips, mouth slightly ajar. I moved my eyes upwards in haste, but too late, Oliver seemed more than amused at my hasteful action.

“And… there might have been other things as well… that meant things…” His smile widened when he saw my eyes go microscopically wider.

Oliver pulled his arm up to rest on the armrest and determinately moved himself closer. It was the determination of a child after some candy, and I felt  flattered that I was what he wanted to move closer to. His smile was now almost touching my would-be smile, had I not been incapable of such endeavours right then. I could feel his soft breath against my skin but I refused to meet his gaze, because I knew it was fixated on mine.

I wanted to know what the other things were that meant things, but I figured that I probably, honestly, wanted to kiss him more, so I did that instead.

My eyes turned to his slowly and then down to his lips. I placed my lips on his briefly and then retreated. _How did we do this the last time?_ Oliver smiled and in return closed in on me, pressing his lips against mine for a brief second kiss. We stared at each other. Smiling. He put his nose on mine and nuzzled against me, getting a soft giggle out of me. His nose felt cold against mine. My forehead was against his. We stayed like that.

“Willow.” Oliver proudly said. It was a statement, not followed by anything.

I snorted, “Remember when you would refuse to call me that?” I looked at Oliver’s hand on the armrest beside me, he was picking mindlessly at a thread sticking out of the couch. “And when I used to _care_ so much…” I pondered.

He kept picking at the thread and we were now both staring transfixed as he unthreaded the couch. “I realise now that it was probably just a way for me to keep you at an arm's length. You were something interesting, and scary,” he gave me a look, “you still are.”

I didn’t laugh, I just looked at him intently, Oliver opening up was too sacred of a thing and I felt like any sudden movements might discourage him.

“You drove me crazy and I didn’t want you near me, but I still found myself inventing reasons to be just that — near you.” He continued shyly. “And then when I actually _realised_ that I want the opposite of arm's length, I got to know you. I realised that we were beyond the surname level, and I wanted to be even further beyond it, _have_ wanted for quite some time now.” Oliver looked at me cautiously, as if thinking he might have said too much. He considered his damage for one or two more seconds, before taking the last final leap, and in a mere whisper he said,

“I’ve never felt this passionately about anything other than Quidditch.”

Something flew over me then as I took in Oliver’s sheepish demeanour and I hugged him tightly. The hug acted as a way for me to reveal my feelings too in the safety behind his back, “Me neither.” I said.

“I guess I never expected I’d like someone in the same way as I like Quidditch…” He said.

Putting a hand on his shoulder I said confidently, “Oliver, I think you like me in a _completely_ different way than you like Quidditch. I sure hope so.”

He laughed at that, “So what way do you think I like you?” He said through an adorable grin.

I grinned back and playfully diverted the question with a, “How about breakfast, huh?”

There was a moment of flirtatious tension while we grinned at each other on that couch, Oliver slowly leaned forward but only just managed to stroke my nose with his before I leaned back. I stood up; legs sore from sitting in the same position for a while and walked backwards toward the exit as Oliver gave me a dissatisfied stare. But with smile still in hold he got up and we finally departed for the Great Hall for some well deserved breakfast, hands brushing against each other every once in a while.

* * *

The Great Hall was darkened by the December morning which was, apart from on Christmas, otherwise grim in its nature. The hall was lit up by candles, although fewer than usual, considering the small amount of students who were now instead gathered around one single long table, with all the teachers joined.

I spotted my Hufflepuff friends sitting around the exorbitantly decorated table, the scene looked like a painting, but it was one of those paintings where the more you look at it, the more you see. I soon also spotted Graham sitting next to Wright, and not long after that I saw that his friends were joined as well. Oliver sat down next to his Gryffindor teammates, who were also joined, and currently making the most noise about some potato mash. I sat down across from Oliver, receiving incessant looks from Bianca PJ and Wright, who were dying to know what had happened after they had left.

“Would you like some of the potato mash?” Came a voice from next to me. It was Quentin, who was politely handing me the bowl and I exchanged a look with Graham who looked as clueless as I to where this sudden politeness had come from.

“Where’s Andrea?” Angelina asked Oliver, whose features turned distressed and he glanced down the table to where Andrea was conversing with her friends. I took a moment to wonder if she had seen the two of us enter the hall together, but Andrea was currently looking like she was doing all right, as I watched her brightly articulate something to her friends.

“She’s… doing her own thing.” Oliver looked down as he was slowly placing some carrots on his plate.

“Oh, okay.” Angelina said. The whole table seemed to understand the implications of this and everyone got quiet.

“That’s too bad.” Said Bianca softly.

“Mhmm…” Oliver agreed. He placed a single piece of carrot in his mouth and chewed silently. I couldn’t help but smile when I thought of how silently he was chewing.

“Willow doesn’t seem to mind.” Said Wright, and I made a mental note to slip Draught of Living Death into her drink later that night.

Everyone turned to me and I had to tuck away my smile. “I actually wasn’t smiling at that.” I put my hands in my lap sheepishly.

“What were you smiling at then?” Said Graham, who was now smiling himself.

“I was just thinking…” I panicked when I realised I had no excuse at hand and Oliver was staring at me with that same distressed expression from before. “…That I really need the bathroom.” Was all I could think to say and I reluctantly –although at the same time glad I had an excuse to leave this mess– stood up to leave.

Body tense I stood up and left, I walked with purpose, not sure where I was going really. I heard footsteps behind me but ignored them. Instead I pulled up the heavy door and entered the cold and empty hallway. I stopped for a second, hearing the person behind me struggling with the door as well, but I didn’t stop to wait for them, I walked on with purpose, figuring I’d just escape into a deserted classroom.

On my left a door soon emerged to a classroom I hadn’t used since my first or second year at Hogwarts. I slipped inside swiftly and placed myself on top of a desk, readily awaiting my stalker.

To no surprise, Oliver soon curiously appeared behind the wooden door.

“Hello stalker.” I said humorously.

Ignoring my remark he started, “That was bad.” And threw a thumb behind him, vaguely in the direction of the Great Hall.

“It was pretty bad yes.” I agreed, trying my best to look at the situation with a sense of humour.

Once Oliver had caught up to the desk I was sitting on, he hesitantly placed himself in front of me and after hesitating some more, he managed to take my hands in his and look me in the eyes.

“Was I supposed to have come here?” He asked. It was evident we were both not entirely sure where we had each other still, and not entirely comfortable yet in this new territory of our relationship.

I just smiled at him. He smiled back. He took one step closer to me; I smiled. He leaned in closer and I was smiling.

“I don’t know how to go back out there.” I said.

“It’ll be alright, you haven’t done anything wrong.” He assured me.

I looked away, “We’re going to hurt Andrea.”

“First of all,” Oliver tried and succeeded to regain eye contact with me, “I was the one who got into a relationship when I was having feelings for someone entirely different.” I had to nod in agreement, looking at it rationally this was mostly Oliver’s mess and I shouldn’t beat myself up too much about it. “Second of all, Andrea already knows what’s going on, it’s the reason she broke up with me.” He was still holding my hands in his. It had begun to feel natural as time went on. “She’ll be alright I think.” He said softly and he seemed assured of this. He was the one who knew her best and so I decided to trust him.

“Well in that case…” We began to smile sweetly at each other once again and this very flirtatious air spread throughout the classroom.

I jumped down from the table and it was my turn to grab his hands and switch positions with him so that he was now the one leaned against the table. I leaned in close and studied his lips, my eyes moved up toward his eyes. His eyes were on my lips and only a second too late did he snap out of his trance and meet my eyes.

“Good morning.” I joked, fully aware of the effect I was having on him. I was wearing the perfume he loved, the one I always wore. He was looking at me with that longing, yet uncertain look. The, ‘am I allowed to kiss her?’ — Look of uncertainty.

“Oliver.” I said, once again having to take his gaze away from my lips.

“Yes.” He mumbled.

“Am I allowed to kiss you?” I asked, wondering if he was even listening, and then he took control suddenly.

His chest met mine. His eyes moved to look intently into mine.

Eyes to lips and then finally lips to lips.

Oliver took a sharp intake of breath through his nose at the impact of the action. The kiss started out in a self-conscious way, our bodies motionless and the only bit moving being the mouth area. Finally, he moved a hand up to my arm. After some time when we had both stopped thinking so much about ourselves and more of how good it felt I realised he had some time along the ride pulled me closer and that his hand was on my neck and that he was supposedly rubbing it.

It was that sort of selfish snogging that says: I need you intensely yet I hardly recognize that you’re there. I simply need you in that barbarically physical way. I need a service that only you can provide me with and it’s urgent.

After a long snog-fest that accidentally lasted way longer than a toilet visit ever could, we made our way back to the Great Hall, taking a moment right outside the entrance to shake ourselves into our normal selves that supposedly would not have been in a deserted room making out.

But as we both entered the hall I realised that it was all too see-through. We moved away from each other and walked along the opposite sides of the table as we made our way down the table to where our friends were sitting. We exchanged glances that I only subsequently realised were way too flirtatious for our own good. And too right, much to my dismay our friends are sat giggling once we reached them, and I knew it was no use. Bianca took the freedom to flatten Oliver’s hair out once he’d sat down, as if to further put the point across that it was noticeable what we had been doing. It bothered me slightly more than it should have, as his dishevelled hair had been making my insides go wild.

“We told you that you weren’t friends.” Wright said in a low voice that despite it being low, everyone heard.

“You also said Graham and I weren’t.” I fired back a little harsher than what was appropriate and a wave with my hand in Graham’s direction.

This notion did not falter Bianca’s glee, “Either way, you just lost a bet.” Bianca she said proudly and I gave a big sigh.

Christmas day — what a joyous occasion!

**The End**

* * *

**5 December 2018**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear reader,
> 
> I have been working on this story since the fall of 2015, three years. It's the biggest writing project I have ever done, and the one I'm most proud of. I set the goal for myself of writing a story that was at least 60k words, as those type of long format stories are the ones I most enjoy reading, where I can be engaged in a story for a longer period of time. I wanted to write at least 20 chapters, and I wanted each chapter to be around 3k words. I was noticing that the previous stories I'd written would come out short and I wanted to challenge myself, so that I could improve and write longer pieces, and I feel very proud of completing that challenge. Thank you so much for engaging in the thing I am very proud of, and following it through until the end.
> 
> If you have any thoughts to share, please do.


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